All I Need
by Foxissofoxy
Summary: There's a Choice in life and some traumas create the illusion there isn't a single option until you meet someone that represents all you will ever need. Rick and Michonne (AU/Possible OOC) More Linear than other stories. Random Plot Driven. Some original characters belonging to Foxissofoxy. A few from the show. Dissociative Personalities.
1. Eight Bags Of Chips and Soda

"I kept walking. Have you ever done that? Just walk. Just walk and have no idea where you're going? It wasn't a good feeling, but not a bad one either. I felt caged and free at the same time, like it was only myself that wouldn't allow me to feel either great or miserable."  
 **― Markus Zusak, Underdog**

* * *

"Hot today."

The older man sized up the younger man in the brown T-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots who had strolled into the store gathering snacks. There was nothing about the younger bearded man that was remarkable other than the fact he wasn't from around their part or better yet small town, a town where everyone knew just about everyone.

It was very rare for a white man to come from that direction in which the stranger came and even head back in that same direction in broad daylight. People coming or going from that direction were simply outcast or had property near the river. These families tended to know each other and have known each other whether comingling or not. The story goes far back as the story is remembered or willing to be told.

Receiving no response or acknowledgment that he spoke, it did not deter the store owner from trying to start up a conversation with the stranger.

Old Herschel's store was the central location that serviced the majority of the community who were lucky to own a running vehicle or tractor since it doubled as the nearest gas station.

"News on the radio says it will get hotter. Don't know why we would want to know that. What we really want to know is when we are going to have rain. Rain would be good news to cool things down a bit. Got a lot of domestic disputes when it gets a certain temperature outside. Inside is like an oven. Bad situation all the way around."

Eight bags of potato chips and Three two-liter bottles of soda pop. The older man totaled up the items.

"Will, that be it for you?"

"All I need."

"If chips and soda are all you need, I say you must be a man that either doesn't want much or you have all you need."

The younger man eyed, the older man that stood on the other side of the counter. His eyes were just as blue, but the older man's eyes were milkier towards the center. Cloudy.

"You aren't from around here."

"I'm not."

"You got any relatives?"

"Not here."

"You just walking through?"

"Through the store. Out the door and off your property when I can get my change and receipt."

"What's your name?"

Again there was no instant response and the older man handed over the change and receipt. Placing the items in the plastic bag.

"You may be in the wrong direction if you are going to turn right. Left is probably where you will be most comfortable. Our kind is 10 miles down the road. Right, you are in the colored land."

"Colored?"

"I was a young boy when they were designated to certain areas. You have to consider that." The older man said almost apologetic for what he considered something that he couldn't help.

"Over half century."

"Nothing changed from how I see it. They segregate themselves. The ones that want more and strive for more tend to want to separate themselves from the ones that are still looking for a handout or someone to blame. Any man like yourself making a right is only looking to take advantage of a dire situation or you being taken advantage of, no matter how you look at it someone has a losing hand."

Rick took the change and placed it in his pocket. The bag was offered to him along with the receipt.

"My name is, Herschel. What's your name, son?"

He had paused. He considered not divulging his identity but thought better of it. The last thing he wanted to do was cause suspicion. He had told the woman he was staying with his name was Rick and she seemed to like it based on the broad smile she gave him that morning. He was going to go by the name she preferred. Here he was Rick.

"Rick."

"Well, nice to meet you, Rick."

With the bags in his hands, he made the right and headed on down the road cutting through a couple of fields. Herschel went to the window inside of his store and watched the bowlegged man until he was just a speck and that didn't take long because his vision wasn't it's best. The fella was headed back to the colored territory. Herschel wondered what was his business in that direction.

* * *

A/N: Correction/Edit 12/27/2018 10:34pm

I wanted to throw this out there into the fandom. This is going to be kind of crazy and weird and if you aren't used to my depiction than you may want to exit. This **Chapter 1** isn't technically the beginning so keep it in your data bank about this interaction. The rest should be as Linear as my Brain will allow. Please bear with me...


	2. Palm Reader

"Two people departed...in search of love...leaving love in between"  
― Santosh Avvannavar, The Departing Point: Two people departed...in search of love...leaving love in between

* * *

"Dear child your hands are saying a lot to me."

"Yeah?" Michonne tried to peer at her open palms the old woman was holding outward to see if she too could find anything so interesting.

"You will have found the Daddy you came out here looking for."

"I will?"

"You have."

"I have?"

"Yes. You certainly will have him. Mark my words."

"Where?"

"In front of you." The woman whispered conspiratorially. Michonne glanced in the direction the woman was leading her, and all she saw was a white man sitting at least 10 feet away talking on his cellphone.

Michonne looked to either side of him and past him hoping to see a man of color, preferably darker than with no pinks and hues of red like a white man. She wanted someone with a decent afro or dreads like how she wore her hair but there wasn't anyone that matched her vision of a man she could bring home to her children. Not a single Daddy in the vicinity from where she sat, and Michonne considered her vision near perfect.

"I think I will pass." Michonne said without hesitation.

"You will find yourself unable when you two finally lock eyes."

"I promise you, I don't stare at strangers. I am certainly not locking eyes with them. My Granny always said to divert your eyes when it comes to..." Michonne trailed off realizing her audience was a white woman around her Granny's age. What she was about to say could be perceived as racist. She reconsidered just in time. She was going to say to never look a white man in the eyes because it makes them nervous and crazy. A black woman must always divert.

"He will do a lot of diverting his eyes at first. Don't take it the wrong way. It just means he thinks you are beautiful and he is painfully attracted to you."

"Ha!" Michonne scoffed loudly.

The thought of being considered beautiful was laughable and inconceivable. She was okay with being considered attractive but beautiful in her mind was taking things a bit too far. Pretty even.

She grew up in a household with no mother to be found and no father that she could remember. No one was giving out compliments and she never received any and when she did, she was easily led astray.

Michonne's Granny raised her some, and her Stuttering Uncle Charlie oversaw the rest. She was never told much about her looks and didn't really get much notice until her senior year, and her Granny said it was only because the boys were in heat and needed something to rub up against until they find a wife. She was not to be a humping post. Don't give away the milk for free.

Michonne did not take the advice because she ended up pregnant with Andre a few months later and played house for a while with the high school dropout. She gave away her milk, lunch money and good sense during that time. That is what her Granny said.

Essentially she was nothing more than a humping post. Whenever Mike wanted to, she was always there, ready. Prowling around her bedroom window in the dark or sitting in a car he borrowed was no kind of young man worth anything. And Granny was right.

It took Mike getting into trouble with the law to break the spell she was under. Almost 10 years of her life she couldn't get back. Now Michonne had a woman sitting next to her at the airport telling her that her children's Daddy was going to be a white looking serial killer? No, ma'am.

"You've made some mistakes. We all make them. Some make more than others and you seem to have your fair share. How many children?"

"Eight."

"How old is the youngest?"

"Three years old. Two sets of twins. My Granny says that God was in a good mood to bless but he was blessing the wrong sisters giving extra mouths to feed. She said breast was made for nursing but when the time was done it would be saggy flesh on the chest. Ain't right for a young girl to produce and produce. You get used up to quickly and no one is going to want a saggy tiddy in her twenties and you might as well hang it up in your thirties."

"Well your sister is highly grateful to you. She told me to tell you so. She's happy you came back to Georgia and stepped in to help. She's glad that you are allowing the kids to call you Mama. Makes it easier that you and your sister were identical, huh?"

"How did you know?"

"Her name was Suzanna and she died giving birth to the last set of twins. She says she misses you something terrible. She said to tell you that your Great Grand Father isn't well and you need to hurry back to check up on him. He's not eating. He thinks your Granny is trying to poison him in order to get the house."

Michonne was in tears. She was turning into a blubbering mess.

"Mother! What are you doing over here? I'm sorry ma'am. Please excuse my mother. Come with me. I was looking all over this airport for you, Mother."

The older woman's daughter came and escorted the old woman away without incident. Michonne dabbed her eyes with the Kleenex she found in her purse. She had to get it together.

Michonne was sitting alone across from the man who she had not once considered and for whatever reason he had taken notice of her. When people stare too long at her, she did what her sister wasn't known to do, and what her Granny warned her of, she smiled.

* * *

A/N: As the story continues to alternate you (Reader) will find that Michonne is talkative compared to the show Michonne. Her talkative nature may be off putting but there is a reason for it but you will not discover it or understand it until waaaaay in the story. The same with Rick. You will not understand until chapters later.


	3. Grieving

"The shortest distance between two people is a story."  
― Patti Digh, Four-Word Self-Help: Simple Wisdom for Complex Lives

* * *

Over a year and a half.

So many days and weeks have gone by and the air was still layered with despair. The curtains were still drawn closed in an attempt to hide the outdoors where the living went on living. In the meantime the two people on the inside of the home grew further apart in their relationship and farther by the amount of miles.

Condolences were frequent. Family, friends, and strangers. Visits declined until it was just husband and wife who found it harder and harder to communicate to others and soon to each other.

Solace could not be found no matter the time of day or night. The focus was the pain of losing a child in such a senseless manner. Neither parent could blame anyone more than they could blame the family that was involved. They were all neighborhood friends from the adults down to the children. The loss of their child also meant the loss of a long-held relationship they had with the Petelier family.

The local news helped to keep the gun safety debate alive with the picture of their son Carl on the television and soon that faded.  
...

"Your mother told me to expect your call."

The silence was an indication for Senior Grimes to continue.

"What is going on with Lori?"

"She wants to have time apart."

"Then why isn't she the one that is leaving? Why must it be you?"

"I don't have an issue with staying. Lori has the issue with leaving the house. She wants me to give her some space."

"Then give her what she wants." Senior Grimes reasoned.

"I feel if I do, there will be no way to recover from it," Rick admitted to his father freely what he felt instinctively as true.

"Staying isn't helping things improve. Especially if Lori is blowing up in front of you with your mother there to witness it."

"I feel helpless, Dad. It's as if there's a hole that I can't seem to dig us out of and when I think I have the answers like packing up Carl's room, it backfires. She explodes. I get accused of not loving Carl, wanting to forget that he ever existed. We still have his pictures up all over the house. I'm not asking her to forget Carl, I am asking her to let's move forward."

"It's been over a year and a half. I am not sure about the grieving process for a person who has lost a child as you and Lori have and I pray your mother and I are first to leave this earth than to have the first-hand experience if we were to lose you so senselessly. A year and a half. I don't know son. Maybe you need to consider giving your wife the space that she is requesting. If nothing else you'll come back with a fresh perspective on things." Senior Grimes offered.

"Well, I am at the airport. I have a rental reserved, and I plan to head your way. It's been a long time since I have been to Georgia."

"Would be happy to see you. Real happy son. Ever since you and Lori moved way out West, things haven't been quite the same. We missed having you two close by, but we understood and supported the decision. You and Lori have given your mother the excuse she needed to hanging around in that state. She loves it there. I'm not moving from King's County. I think your mother understands that no matter on her take on things, and how well we can live out there, that I am staying put. I say we are living just fine right here in Georgia. At least we know if bad weather is a coming. California has no warning for those ground-shakers."

"Mom says she will hang around until she has exhausted her usefulness."

"Well, Lori gives your mother something to do. If anyone is going to make a breakthrough with Lori, it will be your mother. She will come to her senses, and your mother will bring her happiness sunshine right back here to me."

Rick couldn't help but smile. The form on his lips was brief but glimpsed by the strange woman who sat 10 feet across from him. He didn't know who she was, but she kept trying to make small talk with anyone that would happen to sit next to her. It was an odd thing to witness. Anyone passing by would have thought she knew the random people all her life the way that she engaged in small talk.

Either side of her was empty. The old woman was escorted away down to another waiting area for a different flight.

Honestly, he didn't intend for her to think that the smile that formed on his lips was an invitation to her? Why was she smiling at him? Him? He began to check if there was someone in close vicinity that she may have been trying to lure. There wasn't anyone that he could spy in his very brief inspection.

Rick glanced away to make sure he was as aloof as possible. He did not want her to strike up a conversation with him just because he gave her a second too long eye contact. The slight smile was for his Dad, not her but she had smiled back, and it struck him in a way that he had to shake himself to concentrate on the conversation he was having on the phone that was pressed to his ear.

"I will give you a call when my plane lands at the airport in Georgia, Dad."

"You do that, Son."

Rick checked the time on his watch and the phone to make sure it was the same. He soon heard the voice on the intercom speaker calling attention to boarding.  
...


	4. I Hate My Granny

"I am acutely aware that like a slip of paper in the wind, something in his nature eludes my grasp."  
― Christina Baker Kline, A Piece of the World

* * *

"If you don't bring your ass back here-"

Michonne removed the phone from her ear. Her granny was at an octave that could potentially damage her eardrums if not cause her nerves to be so overwhelmed she would forget to respect her elders.

"I am, Granny. I'm at the bus stop. This place ain't like what you think. Things aren't around the corner." Michonne lied.

She was on an airplane. She was sitting next to the man who kept watching her while she waited as he did for this flight to Georgia. He tried to pretend he wasn't looking at her. She caught him on more than one occasion as she paced the aisle closest to the window of the airport which was several more feet away from him.

Michonne's heart raced thinking about boarding an airplane. She was nervous to the point that she talked to any random person within two feet of her. She asked random questions about flying and got random responses back. The main thing she got from people was that it was better than driving and the greyhound was out of the question when she asked them to choose.

There was no way Michonne was going to tell her Granny that she was on an airplane. The thought of her Granny remembering a premonition about the exact flight she was on going down in open waters was enough reason's to keep it to herself. Plus she had taken the greyhound from Georgia to California. She wasn't going to make that same mistake coming back.

This was her first flight, she was still a bundle of nervous energy. The plane was still on the Tarmac, delayed.

Michonne nerves calmed more when she realized her seat was next to the handsome man. He became more handsome the more she caught him looking away. Now up close he was very good looking. He didn't look like a serial killer, and she imagined if she followed her Granny's advice and kept her eyes diverted she would have never known that he was a bundle of nervous energy too. His beard in fact well groomed and together they were going to sit in what was called Economy class. He seemed nice enough. He had a nice smile even though it was short lived but the way his eyes twinkled when he did, made her want to know him, but he wasn't very receptive to her trying to start a conversation.

Michonne had looked further back and wondered if the seat by what was the toilet area was the super economy class. She thought to ask but her phone rang, and it was her Granny.

"Your stuttering Uncle Charlie ain't well, Michonne. He fretting about you in a big place like California."

"You tell him I made it on the Price is Right?" Michonne wondered if the news gave her uncle any comfort.

"I sure did. He was a smiling."

"They wouldn't let me have the washer and dryer unless I paid the taxes. I had to pay taxes on the other prizes too. I started to tell them I will just take the washer and dryer, you know?"

"That's why I wired the money to you, Michonne. Your stuttering Uncle Charlie almost had a stroke having to hand over the money from his floorboard to the bank."

"Western Union ain't a bank," Michonne stated confused at the possible comparison, wondering if it is still considered some type of banking. She thought to ask the man beside her, but he was asking the airline lady if the seat across the way wasn't taken for her to let him know. He wanted to sit over there.

"Who's doing all that talking, Michonne. Why they rude? Don't they know you on the phone with me?" Granny questioned.

"There's a person that thinks a seat in the same location on the bus is a better choice." Michonne cut her eye at the man who cut his eye back at her as he sat back.

"Well don't they know ain't no better seat than the one God has assigned?"

"I don't think God had anything to do with arranging seats, Granny."

"Well, if God wanted things a certain way it will be. That's what it says in the good book. Now, what were we talking about...Yeah, Western Union and money. That was the only way I could explain it to your Stuttering Uncle Charlie. No way he would have sunt you a damn dime if he was thinking he was wiring money. He don't understand it and wouldn't gamble with a chance."

Michonne knew exactly how her small family thought about things. Things they couldn't comprehend was some type of witchery or scam that they didn't want no part of if they had a choice. We always have a choice, Granny always would say. A gift from God. The _Right_ way and a _Wrong_ way. Michonne's Granny and Uncle Charlie seemed to err on the side of No Way most times. Michonne considered that a choice too and remembers her Granny hitting her on the back of the head with a wooden spoon for suggesting any other way.

"It's a fancy washer and Dryer, Granny. Says it makes a sound when it is done with the laundry." Michonne remarked.

"Is that so?"

"I read the instructions."

"Good. We need someone to know how to use it and use it right. We had that broke down set for 25 years now. We can finally haul it out into the yard."

"We need to get all that stuff out of the yard, Granny. We look like a junkyard."

"Your stuttering Uncle Charlie would have a stroke you throwing out his junk. He's still living and breathing. We respect the living, not just the dead. You need to remember that. If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be in California right now. You wouldn't have had the chance to be on the Price is Right."

"I wanted to be on Jeopardy. That's where I wanted to go." Michonne's tone changed slightly, marked with a tinge of regret.

"Nevermind all that. Bring your ass home safe and don't talk to strangers. You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"They snatch women up for sex trading in that State. You come off the bus in that State and they watching to see who is and looks the most naïve. I didn't raise you to be a fool. You didn't get snatched which is an indication that you have some sense about things. They may not have snatched you, but they would have probably tried to take you anyway to clean up after those ones they want to use as those sex workers because they can make money off of them. Now stay safe. You hear me?"

"Yes, Granny."

Michonne disconnected the call when she was sure her Granny hung up.

"To hell with you, Granny," Michonne whispered defiantly.

Michonne knew her comment was overheard. She didn't care. Her Granny knew exactly how to piss her off. There was more laced in the old woman's comment, and Michonne was becoming more and more tired of it and not being able to respond to it out of respect for the elderly.

"I hope she disconnected," Rick responded. He couldn't help himself.

"I don't care." Michonne threw the phone into her purse after silencing it.

There was silence. It lasted 3 minutes based on Rick's estimation.

"Do you have Grandparents that are still living?" Michonne asked.

"I can't say I do."

"Good for you. You don't have to be subjected to the backward ways of yesteryear. I still have my great granddaddy and my grandmother. My great granddaddy is my Uncle Charlie. He is about 95 years old. There are some old pictures of him looking like the broke version of Morgan Freeman and my Granny she is seventy something, I think. I am not sure because she won't really say and every year her birthday comes she says she is sixty something."

The airline attendant came over and informed the man beside Michonne that the seat was indeed taken.

"How is it taken? I don't see anyone?" Michonne questioned easing up to see over the heads of people in the middle aisle.

"She has a therapy dog." The woman smiled at Michonne's interest to see if the seat was actually taken or not.

"Anything else, I can help you with, sir?"

"Alcohol."

"Once we are up in the air, I will make sure of it, sir. I hope you enjoy your flight with us on Go Stop Airlines. I will be back shortly. Excuse me."

"Sorry, friend," Michonne empathized with her seating partner. "My Granny said God put you in the seats that are assigned. I really wanted to see what would happen to you if you went against God's wish."

"What would have happened would have been a little bit more peaceful and quiet."

"Is that all that you want?"

"Right now, yes."

"I don't. Right now I want to get up in the air and get it over with. I want to think about something else. Don't you ever have that?"

"I am not exactly sure what you are talking about. ' _have that'_ threw me off."

Michonne wondered if the man beside her was a real simpleton. She was trying to gauge his intelligence, and she knew it would be a while before she was certain that he had thoughts that consisted of more words than he was expressing.

"Don't you have things that you wish you could put behind you?"

"I think everyone does."

"If I wanted to know about everyone, I would have never used the word, ' _you'."_

There was the silence and Michonne wasn't going to have any part of it.

"I want to have this experience behind me. I want to think about other things like how to get through the Chicago airport. I want to think about once I get to Georgia how I am going to get home. Once I get home, I am going to think about how to make each day a better one since I wasn't able to find a Daddy that they were asking for."

Michonne became quiet when the captain's voice came over the loudspeaker. She hung on his every word. A few more minutes sitting in place is basically what he said to everyone in the cabin. Michonne peered up the aisle. She tested her seatbelt to make sure it was secure. She remembered the exits and the oxygen masks. The bathrooms too.

"Is this normal? This is my first time on an airplane. Do you think this is probably a sign that maybe we shouldn't fly today?" Michonne asked.

"Well according to your Granny and God, he assigned your seat."

"You could hear her?"

"Loud and clear."

"I tried to lower the volume whenever I am talking to her. But for whatever the reason it doesn't seem to be low enough. If it is too low, then I am shouting into the phone and Granny thinks I am going deaf because she swears that her hearing is fine. My Uncle Charlie is the same way. He would ask me who I am shouting at. Now he is practically deaf for real. Granny doesn't think he is. She says he has us on ignore because he wants us out of his house. Too many kids running about worrying his nerves. They gave him some nerve pills. He doesn't take them like he supposed too. I take them sometimes when I am really stressed out. They prescribed him some Percocet's."

"Percocet's isn't for nerves. It is for pain."

"Are you a doctor?" Michonne was sincerely curious about the man's occupation that sat next to the window.

"No. I am not a doctor."

"Pharmacist?"

"No. I am not a pharmacist."

"Then how would you know about, Percocet's?"

"Because I was prescribed it when I had a work injury."

"My Uncle Charlie had a back injury. He complained about the pain. We took him to the doctor, and he was given a bunch of pills to take. He said the Percocet's calmed his nerves too much and he didn't like it. He said a man should never be that relaxed. He said that is how he knew for sure that the..." Michonne trailed off.

She realized her audience was a white man. She didn't want to come off as racist. But her Uncle Charlie said it was the way for the white man to kill his mind and his spirit. Keep a black man high, you can take everything from him, his rights, his dignity, and his spirit. Uncle Charlie said he would go down fighting pain before he would let the white man take those things away from him. Michonne couldn't tell the man that so she went back to the original subject of conversation as if there were placeholders in her thought process.

"My volume is probably cheaply made compared to other phones out there. No matter how I adjust, I can hear my Granny loud and clear. I wonder what would happen if I selected mute." Michonne pondered aloud.

"I think it would be just that, mute," Rick responded simply. "Do you want to practice?"

Michonne gazed at him quizzically. She knew he wanted her to be quiet. His retraction made no sense to her as she listened. Unless he was asking for her phone number? She wasn't in the habit of giving out her phone number and she didn't want to have to change her phone number if he became creepy and would keep calling her. Michonne was very selective on who she gave her phone number too.

He clarified, "Try it out on your phone. You may have a better understanding of what mute means compared to lowering the volume."

"I think it is because I have a prepaid phone. What kind of phone do you have?"

"I have an iPhone."

"Do you get excited when the new ones come out every other day?"

"They don't come out every other day. People get excited about it. I don't. I still have the iPhone 7."

"I have never been that level of consumer. I don't know anyone in a three-mile radius of where I live with an iPhone. We have prepaid, burner phones and then we have a few Androids on those contract plans. I have never had a contract. I never tried for one. I hear the people around me always complaining that the bill is high or they are stuck for a couple of years. I don't understand it, and it makes my heart race thinking about it. I like knowing that I only have to pay $29.00 and my unused minutes roll-over into the next month. What does your plan do?"

"I have unlimited. My phone is not on contract. It's paid. I just pay the bill. Not sure what more I would want from a phone. I just want it to call. Have the right time and give me directions if I have a vehicle that doesn't have GPS."

"How is it you come across vehicles that don't have navigation? Are you a car salesman?"

"I am not a car salesman."

"You don't seem like one. They are generally non-stop talkers. They can go on forever, and you don't have to say much. They are very good liars. Smooth talkers. You have to watch out for them. They can make a lemon seem like it is going to give you sweet lemonade."

"I was thinking, that maybe you are a car salesman."

"I am not. I work at Daryl's automotive. A repair shop."

"You work on cars?"

"No, I don't. Why would you think I would work under the hood?"

"I don't want to assume."

"I work the register. I also work the register at Herschel market. I am trusted with and around money. Granny says that is the reason my Uncle Charlie trust me because of the..." Michonne trailed off again. She didn't want to sound backward, but her Uncle Charlie trusted her because if the white man was willing to trust her with and around their money, then she must have honest hands.

"Why does your Uncle Charlie trust you?" Rick couldn't help himself. He wanted to know.

"I have honest hands." Michonne stared down at her open hands, palm up. She wondered for a moment what else the old woman saw along the lines and outside of them.

She was lost in thought for a moment, and she noticed the man beside her looking down at her hands. She turned them down and wiped them on her thigh covered cotton dress.. Nervous energy was threatening to grow if she didn't keep talking.

"What do dishonest hands look like?" Rick asked. Curious again.

"They have handcuffs on the wrist."

Rick couldn't help the upward turn that was threatening to create another semblance of a smile. He faced the window to conceal it until it vanished.

"You've ever been arrested?" Michonne asked him.

"No. You?"

"No. I don't do well under pressure. I have Granny on one shoulder. I got God on the other. Then I have my Brain. I don't have the devil frequency."

"Frequency?"

"Radio frequency. Devil station. My Granny says there are a lot of people tuned in and hotwired to the Devil Frequency. She says the radio plays and there is no volume control. Devilment out of control."

"Where are you from?"

"Born and raised in, Georgia."

Michonne waited for him to tell her where he was born and raised. It was just silence. He looked as if he was going to say something but he thought better of it. She wondered what it was because the way he swallowed indicated he was probably going to say a lot.

"Well, I was supposed to be on the Greyhound. Do you know how many days it took to get from Georgia to LA?"

"Three days?" Rick guessed.

"Are you crazy? From Georgia to Louisiana. One day. The bus broke down, and we had to wait for another one to come along while they towed the other one off. Took about two days from there to get to California. We had another delay. A crazy person was on board. We had to wait for the police to come and escort them off and away to the loony ward. I was worried they were going to shoot him, but they didn't. They came and got him without incident. You know they shoot crazy people these days. When my sister went crazy, we just let her be. No way was we going to call the law. My sister tired herself out with all her ranting and raving. We kept the kids safe. That was important. Important just like hearing what this Captain is talking about. Shhh."

Michonne noticed that the man was just staring at her as if she was weird. Little did he know she thought the jury was still out on how intelligent he was. He didn't know that LA was for Louisiana.

The captain's voice was over the loudspeaker again telling everyone the plane was going to take off once it was their turn."

"Is it because this is Go Stop Airlines you think? I didn't want to pay more and go with another airline since they were all going in the same direction."

"Go Stop airlines is just as good and safe as any of the others. They go in turns. The planes take turns to go and if before they go if they find a problem they take care of it before we go. Better to take care of problems on the ground than finding them up in the air, don't you think?"

Michonne thought about what he had said and how simplified he made it. She wondered for a second if he was questioning her intelligence.

The airplane was moving. It was picking up speed and then slowing down.

"I'm nervous. I've got some Dramamine. It says it can put you to sleep. I took two already, but I don't feel a thing."

"I thought it was for nausea?"

"You sure you aren't some type of doctor?"

Rick watched the woman pop two more in her mouth and took a swig of water from her bottle that she pulled out of her purse.

"I don't feel sleepy. I think I am so hardwired that certain medicines don't really affect me like it says on the bottle. If I don't get to a calm state, I think I am going to have to ask them to let me off the plane."

"I think it is a little too late for that unless you make a scene and then you may just get your wish. The pilot will stop right on this runway and have the police and airport security to escort you off. You might be lucky to have the FBI and a hefty fine. Crazy people are fined too."

"Well, there should be take backs. People should be able to change their minds."

"Not if God has arranged a seat."

"God wanted me on the Greyhound."

"Do you want me to let the Attendant know to inform the Captain there will be a delay?"

Michonne watched from the corner of her eyes at the man who was either seriously going to call the flight attendant with his twitchy finger hovering over a button that was either going to recline or summon. She wasn't sure, and she didn't want to find out if he was crazy enough to start some crap with her on a fast moving plane. His sense of humor was very suspect along with his intelligence. She wasn't going to gamble.

"I have self-control sir. I am not going to be on the news, and then my Granny would know for sure I was on a plane. I have sense. I want you to know that. I'm nervous. Not crazy. I have never flown before. I have never been on a plane. This is my first time. I didn't want to go back on the Greyhound. I met some characters on there, and I didn't want to meet a new set of them coming back. It takes all types to make the world go around, you know?"

"That I know."


	5. Can I Move My Seat?

"I am not what you see.  
I am what time and effort and interaction slowly unveil."  
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons

* * *

When Rick had boarded the plane and got himself settled in, he couldn't help but notice her coming down the aisle with her eyes glued to her ticket and trying to match it to her seat. Her seat was next to him. Fuck.

She tried to make small talk with him and the longest silence was when she was upset about what was said to her on the phone and she turned it off and threw it in her bag.

There was silence. It lasted 3 minutes based on Rick's estimation. It was like he could sense there was going to be a conversation because that was just how she operated. Roping him in was going to be difficult. He was going to make sure of it.

 _"Do you have Grandparents that are still living?" Michonne asked._

Almost an hour in and they were taking off. The airplane began to speed and lift up and off of the runway.

"We are going to take off," Rick informed the woman who seemed to tense up immediately as the plane picked up speed. Her eyes were closed.

"Oh okay."

Michonne's nerves were doubling and folding only to increase again. The plane was speeding down the runway one minute and then the pressure and the feeling in her stomach. She placed her hand on top of his and closed her eyes as she felt the lifting of the aircraft.

Rick wasn't sure what was happening and to have her hand on top of his was startling. It was purposeful, and the way she laced her smaller fingers in between his that was resting on the armrest between them caused him to watch and witness the connection.

The contrast of skin color and the unfamiliar touch was almost too much for his elevated state of mind. He was more aware of how much he hungered for a connection and that he had a choice. He was broken, and he knew it.

"Our father who art in Heaven..." Michonne began her whispered prayer.

The way that the light from his window illuminated the silhouette of her face. Her blemish-free skin, her nose, the fullness of her lips, her slender neck with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. Rick had to find a way to disconnect, but she held his hand tighter every turbulent incline the plane made as it sought the right altitude for a smooth flying experience.

She was holding his hand, and when she was assured that things were going to be smooth sailing above the clouds from the Captain on the loudspeaker, Michonne let go of his hand abruptly.

Rick's hand felt cold and lonely, and the jitters he hadn't felt since he was a kid in middle school resurfaced and fell flat when she took her hand away.

Rick recalled just an hour ago he had wondered if he could move to the vacant seat two aisles up on the other side of the plane. He would have had to ask her to excuse him and slide out since he was unfortunate to have the window seat. The dreadful feeling of being trapped where he didn't want to be was overwhelming, just an hour ago. Now there was an ease developing as he listened. A captive audience.

"I have been with my Granny since I could remember. We always stayed with Granny. I have a twin sister. I had a twin sister. Her name was Susannah. She's been gone for about three years now. We were identical. The only difference was she wore her hair different than mine. She had an afro. Uncle Charlie called it a bush. He would always tell her to do something with all that hair. She didn't care what Uncle Charlie said. We cared about what Granny had to say. She did, more than me. Granny use to hot press her hair. Do you know what a hot press is?"

Rick gave the woman a look. He hoped she read it as a blank stare.

"I told Susannah that I didn't want any more hot presses. Soon as I got old enough, I went down where I wasn't supposed to go and had a lady make my hair like this. I have been wearing it this way ever since. Granny tried to comb it out. It's been kinked up according to her, and in her mind, this is my punishment. She wanted to get scissors, but she thought what a sight I would be with no hair. Uncle Charlie says I would be Buckwheat from the Little Rascals-"

Rick couldn't help the rumble of laughter that escaped as he imagined what he remembered of Buckwheat from his childhood watching television on a Sunday afternoon as a kid.

"You found that funny?" Michonne marveled. "You and my Uncle Charlie will be two peas in a pod my Granny always says. I never let her touch my hair. I don't like the smell of burnt hair and hot grease burning my scalp. I had a guy a few years ago that didn't like his girlfriends to have smelly hair. I didn't know my hair smelled bad until he told me. I wasn't trying to be his girlfriend or anything, but sometimes it is good to know what other people are thinking about you when it something you can help. Probably kind of why I brush my teeth a lot."

Rick had no idea what to say to what she was telling him. He knew from the moment that she sat down next to him she smelled fine. The urge to get a whiff of her hair wasn't hard to fight, but he was curious. The dreads were interesting, and he had never been in a situation to consider what had crossed his mind with her sitting next to him.

"Are you going to eat that?" Michonne asked.

"It's airplane food." Rick looked from his sandwich to her.

"Do you know how many starving kids there are in Africa?"

"They aren't looking for airplane food. I promise you that." Rick stated as a matter of fact.

"I promise you if you handed them that sandwich that you are about to let go to waste they would want to taste. At least a sniff."

"I would think sniffing wouldn't help the condition of hunger." He quipped back.

Rick watched the woman take his half sandwich that he had no plans on eating, wrap it up and place it in her purse. He was amazed in the short time that they had shared the flight from LAX headed to Chicago O'Hare how the time seemed to eventually fly by. He wasn't bored and he didn't check the time. She was a talker, and it appeared that the Dramamine did not take on the effects of sleep or cause her to appear drowsy.

"I would like to live there. California. It seems like it would be a fresh start. Cost a lot of money though. I was looking at the rent, and I don't know how people do it. I already have two jobs in Georgia. I would need to work five in California. Wouldn't have time for my little man if I lived here trying to give us a fresh start."

"Fresh Start." Those two words had seemed to resonate with Rick in a way that he wasn't sure why, but it did.

"You actually live out in California?" Michonne asked him.

"Yes."

"How do you do it?"

"Barely. I've always wanted to go back to the south or at least to the east coast, but after a while, you forget what motivates you and..."

Michonne hung onto the sentence realizing he wasn't going to finish. He was lost. She watched the side of his face. The silhouette of his face and the way the sun blazed and highlighted the hues of his skin and the lips that trembled with a memory unknown to her.

"My motivation is my baby. His name is Andre. He is five. I told him I was going to find him a Daddy. I have to give him hope that he is out there. A Daddy. I know he has his real Daddy, but he doesn't count. I mean any man can father a child but, I am going to find him a man he can call Daddy, and he acts like one. I never had one. I want him to have one. These days it's like trying to make Santa Claus real. Where I am from at least, for me, I can speak on it for my life and for me. I can't speak on it for anyone else."

"You've come to California to find your son a Daddy?" Rick was lost.

Rick found it odd for her to travel so far to see if she could find a man that would just randomly agree to things. Michonne spoke as if a Daddy was like going into a store similar to Build a Bear. Build A Daddy.

Whatever Rick was feeling had vanished as he thought of her odd reasons for traveling thousands of miles. He wanted to get to know her. He had never met anyone like her in all his life and usually circumstance would have prevented such an interaction. Normally he would have been in first class if the flight wasn't overbooked.

"He sure wasn't on the Greyhound bus. That much is for sure. Do you like a spearmint? I have some gum. I was told that it's good to chew gum when the plane takes off and it is up in the air. Chewing gum helps with the pressure in your ear. I learned that from a frequent flyer headed for Canada. I got some. You want one?"

"Sure."

"I have Motrin and Tylenol. I had a lady going to Paris tell me that she gets pain in her head when it gets to a certain altitude. I wanted to be prepared. She said the worst thing is to be in the air without relief. You let me know if you are going to need anything. I think I have us squared away."

Rick eyed the woman rummaging through her purse. Us?

"I came here to get on the Price is Right. I really wanted to go on Jeopardy. I am really good. I have random things here." Michonne pointed to her temple, placing her bag securely under the seat in front of her as instructed by the airline stewardess. "I would have been in my element. Alex Trebek would have to bow to me. I am that smart."

Rick smiled. Her confidence was something he found interesting if not inspiring.

She wanted to share her airplane earbuds with him so they could watch one of two episodes of the Walking Dead. He was behind on the show and he relented easily enough as she continued to talk, catching him up with what had happened just before the scene and afterwards.

Rick didn't realize Michonne had fallen asleep until he had awakened from what was a deep slumber. The side of his face resting in her dreads. The scent of her hair and the feel of it against his skin alerted his senses because it was unfamiliar. It wasn't unpleasant. Different. The sounds of the bustling in the aisles of the drinks and food cart stirred him from his sleep. Rick had promised to wake her if and when the pills kicked in, and if she did indeed fell asleep. She was sleeping soundly on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you know what your wife will have to drink?" A different flight attendant whispered in order to not disturb the woman that was glued to him.

Rick was groggy, but he wasn't confused. He wasn't flying with his wife, and the woman who was leaned into him asleep was not, Lori. From her many tangents, he knew she had an addiction to coke a cola. To make the situation less awkward, he ignored the assumption the airline stewardess had made and placed the order for a coke. The Coke was eventually given to him as was his small bottle of alcohol that he paid for in advance. He wasn't going to share this one with the woman that was sleeping and he hurried and knocked it back by twisting off the cap and guzzling it down.

He had a lot of reflection he needed to do. What was most important was waking her up because she had asked him to pinky promise that he would when food or snacks were ever being served. Plus he needed to take a piss soon and she was in the way and it felt oddly nice to have her on him the way she was, her hand on his thigh.


	6. Your Name Is Rick

"I wonder how many people don't get the one they want, but end up with the one they're supposed to be with."  
― Fannie Flagg, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café

* * *

"Hey." Rick wiggled his shoulder to wake her.

"My name isn't hey. My name is Michonne."

"Well, you have been calling me Mister and Sir this whole time. My name is Richard Sinclaire Grimes."

"You say it as if I am suppose to know who you are, Rick."

"Most people call me Sinclaire."

"I'm calling you, Rick. What kind of name is Sinclaire?"

"Not much, if you don't know who I am."

"I have no clue and once you are in Georgia you will find that you are no better than anyone else, you know? Regular and plain is a good thing. I tell the kids that all the time."

"What is your name?"

"I just told you. My name is Michonne."

"Michonne?"

"That's my name and don't you wear it out, Rick."

"No last name?"

"I have to know you much better for you to get my phone number and my last name. Those two things are equal if not sacred."

"I told you my full name."

"I was waiting for you to introduce yourself, you know? I have no idea why you waited this long to tell me that your name is, Rick."

Michonne straightened herself up. She checked the side of her mouth quickly to make sure she hadn't drooled.

"You must be under the impression I know a lot of things. You always end your sentence with you know, you know?"

"Are you getting snippy with me?"

"There is something majorly wrong with you." Rick was secretly amazed at how Michonne looked and appeared to be wide awake. Bright eyed and bushy tail after taking eight Dramamine in the short space of time.

"When I wake up fully I will figure out how we ended up on the wrong foot. In the meantime, I need to go pee. Now is the best time for you to make a run for it, Rick. It seems to me more people will hog it all up once they finish eating. I have an extra toothbrush in my purse."

Michonne began searching, and Rick looked on in awe.

"I can feel your eyes are on me. Don't worry it is unopened and blue. I have the pink one. Mine is open. Yours is brand new. Unopened toothpaste I got from the motel I was staying at while I was in California. You are going to thank me for looking out for you."

Michonne found the items and placed them on his tray lifting the armrest that separated them by choice.

"I have my own toothpaste and toothbrush."

"Where?"

"In my luggage."

"And where are you versus your luggage?" Michonne paused waiting for him to inform her of other ways that passengers could possibly retrieve their luggage during mid-flight.

"On the plane sitting next to a woman I am finding to be very annoying."

"Now, I am annoying?"

"Yes."

"When I finish with my bathroom duties we will continue with this conversation. We have to make sure things are resolved. You can't allow a wound to heal if you don't take proper care."

"You are going to be very surprised to find it isn't a bathroom. It is a very tiny closet with a toilet and sink."

"What more do I need?" Michonne gave Rick a quizzical look.

He didn't have the answer quick enough before she decided to get up and walk up a few rows before disappearing into the vacant lavatory once she figured out how to open it. Rick couldn't help but notice she had a nice shape in the simple dress she wore. The scent she left behind he found that he liked. Where she sat was warm still. He had a slight erection and if he was being honest, it annoyed him more than anything that he has gone a very long time without sex. It had been a long time since he had a woman pressed against him even it was just her head and her hand resting on his thigh area. It was nice. It felt good.

He slid out in time before the food cart was making haste to hand out turkey or ham. He went in the opposite direction with the items she handed him.

The small area was enough to cause Rick to feel claustrophobic. He hurried and washed his hands, noticing the gold wedding band that he wore as a reminder. It was his reminder. He splashed water on his face after doing a quick brushing of his teeth.

Rick decided then, that once he got settled somewhere he may just shave off his beard. Without it he would have been more recognizable to the airline attendants. He was the CEO of Go Stop Insurance he had major influence on the airlines that was a subsidiary to his insurance company. Most of his time traveling was always about or for his job. This was the first time he had done something that produced the intoxicating effects that only leisure could leave behind and remind, he had nothing but time.

Rick contemplated in the mirror. He had never been so moved to go against what he stood for and considered the ethics of everything. He had to think and consider every minutiae of detail and how it could affect everything else. There was a good chance that the woman he was sharing Economy Class could be batshit crazy but he wanted to take a gamble to see if he could just get laid. If he could get laid he would be able to think straight. See clearer of what was really happening to him and his wife, Lori. If he could just release some of the tension...

Someone was trying to get inside. Rick unlocked the door and stepped out allowing the person on the outside access. Michonne was walking down the aisle towards him as he was walking up the aisle towards her.

She was fucking beautiful that it hurt to look at her for too long, he thought to himself. He had to divert his eyes and gaze at the top of the head of random passengers until he came upon his designated seating area. For a second he wondered why her hand was held out to him. She wanted the toothbrush and paste.

Rick wondered for a second why she wasn't sitting and realized then that she was waiting for him to slide in. He had the window seat. He made sure to not knock the contents over on his tray. Her soda was one of them. His erection that resurfaced was another issue.


	7. Ham Or Turkey

"I accept the hard reality that I maybe might possibly be just the slightest tiniest littlest bit kinda sorta interested in him."  
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

* * *

Michonne made her way down the aisle at approximately the same time Rick was coming out from the restroom at the opposite end of the plane.

Something about him had Michonne feeling unsettled, and she felt a keen sense of chaotic energy that kept her mind on a very active level of alertness. He was sexy. Not only good looking but sexy. She didn't divert her eyes and she was pleasantly surprised that he didn't look away either. Not until he noticed her hand was out.

The plaid button down shirt, jeans and cowboy boots he wore made him look like an ordinary man, but he wasn't average or regular even though he was Caucasian. He didn't blend in readily like he would in a crowd of white people. She was almost sure she would be able to point him out, sniff him out, or just plain recognize him out of most others if she was blindfolded. He had a way about him. The way he spoke. The manner in which he sat or now stood before her coming up the aisle to take their seats. He had to go in first since he had the window, and she waited for him to slide in but not without sharing a moment of sizing each other up.

Rick watched Michonne pull out a sandwich bag and place his toothbrush and toothpaste and a separate one for her own. The items were placed in her purse.

"I remember what your issue is with me." Michonne informed Rick.

"I don't have an issue. You have an opinion, and I have mine. Respect it."

"It's hard to respect an opinion that you seemed to like to call it, when it is based on preference."

"I prefer to not have this conversation with you, Mi-chonne." Rick emphasized her name. He liked the sound of it and Michonne silently liked to hear him say her name.

"Well, it would be in your best interest to learn something about opinions. Everyone has one just like assholes."

"I'm not an asshole. I was just pointing out the fact that if it is as you say on the Walking Dead, the guy, the deputy should have been more careful if his love interest was the blonde with children. He should have made sure the woman, the Katana badass knew he intended to keep them safe. They were a priority since he, the deputy as you tell it, killed the husband off."

"Stop talking." Michonne couldn't help but be dismissive.

"There you go. You told me what has happened so far on a show that I am a few seasons behind on and I give you my two cents and-"

"Do you know what the Katana woman had to go through to get them, him and his son and daughter to Alexandria? The bond she has with his son? She is not a watchdog, sir. She is a woman. Not a damn Doberman for him to go sic em. the blonde was a casualty by the deputy's creation and living in Alexandria sheltered the way she was, she was doomed. Do you hear me? D. O. O. M. E. D."

"Is the show really that deep? Is it? I mean, from where I have left off I thought it was about finding a cure or place to be safe until the cure was found. I had no idea this was some type of Soap Opera of who should be with the Deputy in a romantic way?"

"The show isn't that deep. Not when people like you are watching it."

"What does that mean? I have a Bachelors Degree."

"I have a degree that I have been working on for the last 10 years buddy and it is from the hardest school you could get one from. I am working on a master the way my life has been going."

"What school is that where it's taking you-"

"Hard Knocks. Life of hard knocks. Schooled by life."

Rick accepted the glare that she gave him. The silence could almost be cut with a knife. He wondered how long she could go without saying another word and the sooner he started his mental time watch she began like they didn't just have a heated session.

"They are offering Turkey or Ham again."

He tossed back the alcohol straight from the additional bottle he procured without a response to what she overheard the Flight Attendant ahead offering the others.

"I wonder if it is going to be warmed this time. A hot sandwich. I prefer it warmed or hot. I don't care too much for cold."

"Cold turkey or ham sandwich," Rick informed, denoting that she didn't have a choice.

"You know some people don't eat turkey or ham."

"Are you one of those people?"

"Today is like a coin toss. Head is Ham; the tail is Turkey."

Rick handed Michonne her coke and a small plastic cup of ice that was melting now that she was correctly seated and she finally had her tray down. He couldn't help but continue to stare at her because of the silence that prevailed as if she was waiting for him to offer something. He wasn't sure what exactly, but she was waiting.

"What?" He finally asked.

"A coin toss. You have a coin?"

"I'm your coin."

"You want to be tossed?" Michonne found it curious.

"Turkey. That is the sandwich you will have today."

"What kind of coin are you?"

"The kind that knows what you want."

"How'd you know?"

"Random selection and the odds were fifty percent chance that you would get the very exact same sandwich that was offered to you hours ago."

"You don't normally have conversations do you?"

"What have we been doing since we've been up in the air?"

"Well, I thought maybe you want to relax just a tad bit more. I have a crossword puzzle in my purse. We could do that after this lunch we are about to enjoy."

"I was thinking about watching more of the Walking Dead. I am surprised they have that on the flight."

"My Granny won't let us watch it. Uncle Charlie likes to watch when Granny is gone, but if she stays overnight, there is nothing but bible study, bible scripture, bible talk and whatever happened in the news to compare it to what it says will happen in Revelations."

"Lucky for you, your Granny isn't here on the plane." Rick smirked.

"Well...I've watched the movie, Avengers. I watched the other one before falling asleep. Movies put me to sleep."

"It wasn't the Dramamine?" Rick found himself amused and it has been a long time since he felt completely and utterly relaxed with someone that wasn't his wife or his bestfriend he grew up with in Georgia.

"No. Movies always put me to sleep. Lights out. I like the Walking Dead. If you could be anyone of those Characters, which one would you be?"

Rick realized they were headed back to the topic that had them in a riled up state.

"The man that was looking for his wife and son. I would be him. I wouldn't necessarily be him in real life but if I had to choose it would be him."

"Why?"

"Because a lot of me is him. I'm the good guy that want to help people and my family is a top priority. I would fiercely guard them."

Michonne eyed the wedding band on his finger. He was fidgeting with it again. She wondered how married was he? She had questions about it but she was going to wait. It was always best to wait. Pray over it and God would give her a sign. He was talking like he had Good Daddy potential. He wants to help people, not rob them blind. He wants to protect his family and they are important. How married is he, heavenly father? Michonne asked secretly of the heavens to provide her the answer.

She had never been with a married man before and if she really thought about it, it had been a very long time since she had been with any man intimately. She was quite sure she had cobwebs down below and if he wanted to dust them off she would consider it. He wasn't on her bucket list like Jeopardy or the Price Right or even California. This was a one time consideration to travel a lesser desirable road now that she considered him in that way.

Michonne had to focus on what he was saying . He was finally giving her more than two word sentences. He has a bachelor degree which was an indication that he was highly intelligent even though first impression was off to a rocky start.

"I'm only up to them reaching the prison. I haven't gotten any further than that, and it seems the few episodes they have here is going to have me a little further in besides what you have told me. At least this time I can get a little visual backstory of how they ended up in Alexandria. Who would you want to be?"

"Well, I would want to be the woman with the sword. She is fricking amazing."

"The woman with a sword?" Rick didn't find it hard to believe. They were similar in features and appearance. "I can see that. I can see you being amazing to watch at whatever you chose to do or be. If I was the Deputy, I wouldn't go for anyone else but you based on everything you have told me so far. He's a fool on the show. If I were him you would most definitely be my first and only pick. Just so you know, Michonne. If you were the one with the Katana and I was the one with the colt we would be together. No deep thoughts about it. No soap opera. We would just be."

Michonne paused at hearing that from him. He was going to have her drop her panties if he continued. She was a sucker for nice things said to her and about her. Reason why she was wasting so much time with Mike. Mike knew exactly what to say and he was consistent because he knew she fed off of it. Not just by anyone. Just by whomever she was interested in could lure her just like a car with a stranger asking the greediest kid if they wanted candy. She was snatch-able and she was ready to be snatched.

What he said, Michonne left right there in the atmosphere but still heady from it's after effects she was still able to find her placeholder in the conversation. Michonne was glad that she could remember what she was going to say.

"You are very behind. You don't officially know about her yet. When you do and see all that she has done for the greater good of things-you will more than likely think she is amazing too. I personally think it's so awesome there is a black female character with Dreadlocks. She has hair like mine. Dark skin too. You don't normally see a female like her on a show, and they haven't killed her off either. Not that I know of. I think I am a season behind, but I can wait for you to get caught up and then we can proceed together."

There was an itch that had to be scratched on his eyebrow. Michonne had a way of saying things that made absolutely no sense. There was no way he was going to get through a whole season on an airplane when he was practically four seasons behind. He was stumped and she was engrossed in the food box that was handed to her by the flight attendant.

"Turkey or ham for you, Sir?" The female flight attendant smiled at Rick, waiting for his response.

"Huh?"


	8. A List For Daddy

"If a father does not altogether embrace a life of uncompromised sacrifice as the core of all principles by which he nurtures his children, he is a father by birth only and no power on earth can ever or will ever make that sufficient."  
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

* * *

Granny was standing at the stove stirring the oatmeal in the large pot while the children sat at the massive table that has always been in the family for years if not a century or two. If anyone allowed Uncle Charlie to tell the story, it would never be quite the same tale, but what you would gather would be the fact that it always sat right there in the same place as it sat to this very day.

What Granny did know, was that it was a table that she sat at when she was just a small girl herself.

At the table sat Uncle Charlie, 9yr old Carlton, 7yr old Abigail and Billie Joe set of twins, 6-year-old Ghost who's real name was a mystery, 5-year-old Andre, 4-year-old Marty short for Martin and the 3-year-old Gladys and Knight. The last set of twins nearly killed Michonne.

"I'm tired of Oatmeal." Carlton voiced his disapproval of his breakfast staple. He rested his forehead on the table, shaking his head.

"I'm tired of hearing the same thing every morning. Lord knows I am tired of hearing it." Granny replied back with her back still turned away.

"You got a job, boy?" Uncle Charlie asked.

Uncle Charlie was in good spirits that Michonne was coming back. Granny talked to Michonne hours ago, and that was what Michonne had said. She was coming back. He folded down his old newspaper with the comics.

"Tell me what this one is about, boy." Uncle Charlie requested Andre to read aloud the small snippets of funny conversation in each caption.

Andre struggled with reading. He was young, but he could read compared to his Uncle Charlie. The old man would have asked Carlton, but with the foul mood in his tone, Uncle Charlie didn't want him making the characters on the faded comics less humorous.

"When will, Mama comeback?" Ghost asked. She felt it in her spirit that it would be any minute. She was restless ever since her mother went out the door with her suitcase and purse. The thought of her mother not coming back worried the young girl with bright lips that matched her hair.

"What good would your Mama do being here? It would still be Oatmeal." Granny responded back.

"She's bringing Daddy back. She said she was going to find him and bring him back." Ghost informed the old woman that took care of them whenever their mother went to work or on her secret searches for them a Daddy.

"Child, your Mama better not come back here with a man from off the streets. She has too many kids. She ain't going to find any man that wants a used up woman with extra mouths to feed. If she brings anything up in here it better be the plumber and the man that is delivering that fancy washer and dryer she was talking about on the phone. Anyone else I am going to chase up out of here."

"She is bringing us a Daddy. She said she is tired of doing this by herself. You can't chase our Daddy away when he finally comes back." Ghost declared.

"What Daddy have I chased away? Hold that," Granny was referring to hold that thought because there wasn't no Daddy and she continued, "Your Mama ain't doing shit by herself. What she think me and your Uncle Charlie is? How she thinks she went to California without all of you zapping the life out of her Titties? She ain't been doing shit herself." Granny snapped back at the child they all called Ghost due to her lack of melanin.

Granny placed a bowl full of oatmeal in front of every child after serving Uncle Charlie first before she sat down at the table. She noticed the hurt look on Ghost's face and a few of the others that sat at the table waiting to start their breakfast.

"Your Mama has to be careful with any man at this point. Most of them up to devilment with the radio dial on high. It isn't safe to have a stranger around children. A stranger having access around you and your sisters. Including you boys too. The devil doesn't discriminate. I don't want to have to shoot someone and end up behind those bars we talk about but I would if your Uncle Charlie doesn't beat me to the shotgun."

"No questions asked. You tell me, and I will blow 'em away. Mark my words down. Nobody hurting these kids around here and nobody coming up here trying to take my land. This is my land. I am the rightful owner, and I got papers to prove it. Anyone that says different you tell 'em you heard it from me directly." Uncle Charlie's tone was serious as was their Granny.

"Where these kids going to hear about your land?" Granny questioned the old man at the table. "Now, come on let's bless this food. Put that paper away, Uncle Charlie."

Uncle Charlie was confused by the restlessness of the kids around the kitchen table. All eight kids were present, and he wanted to hear precisely what Andre was trying to read to him but the child was distracted by the idea of a Daddy.

It never went unnoticed by Uncle Charlie that Andre looked nothing like, Mike. If Uncle Charlie was, to be honest none of the kids looked anything like the man that was now behind bars. Only Granny insisted that he stop talking about it because it would cause the kids to have a complex. Michonne said the father was Mike every time she came back from playing house, a gut full of baby and if they prayed harder and had the kids out in the sun it would be real. The kids would have at least looked like they were fathered by a black man. At least. All eight.

Granny and Uncle Charlie had become accustomed to not worrying about Michonne when she was gone for long stints in the beginning, but when the number of children began to climb that she left behind for short periods for Granny and Uncle Charlie to care for, they had to put their foot down.

"Your Mama says she is on her way. She should be here by tomorrow or the morning after if the bus stays on schedule and if the Lords says the same. Those two things go together. Can't have one without the other."

"So, don't you get up again from that table, Ghost. You heard what I said. Your Mama will be here by tomorrow or the next day, sometimes. She won't be here today."

"Do you think she is going to bring us back a Daddy, Carlton?" Abigail asked her brother that sat next to her while the attention was on her sister Ghost.

"Our Daddy." Carlton corrected.

Ghost, who was 2 years younger than him who was steadfast that her mother was going to do what she said she was going to do chattered about her Daddy from the list she helped to create but Carlton did all the writing to make it more legible.

"Our Daddy is going to buy us some potato chips, and he won't care if we have some soda every now and again."

"We will have our own bags of chips." Billie Jo chimed moving her frizzy honey blonde hair from her eyes. Her skin was the color of a shiny brand new penny.

"Tired of sharing." Carlton agreed with Billie Jo.

"Is that all you want from a Daddy?" Uncle Charlie mused. "Potato chips and Soda Pop?"

"Read stories," Gladys added into the conversation and Knight giggled before taking a spoonful of oatmeal.

"Take us places." Abigail threw out into the conversation.

"Well, don't sound like you want much."

"All we need."

"All I need," Marty mumbled.

"If you don't want more than that it would be all that you get." Uncle Charlie said simply to each child that sat at the table whether they had a full understanding of their request.

"I ain't never had a Daddy, and I guess that made me unable to know how to be one when I had children years ago before the existence of your Granny. I never gave much thought about the coming and going I used to do. It takes a man that is aware or who have had a Daddy to know what it takes to be one and most men out in the world ain't trying to raise something that he didn't ask for."

"What are you talking about, Uncle Charlie?" Granny was wary on where Uncle Charlie could take the conversation. Young ears should only hear very little of the adult world was her mindset.

"Women giving men kids that the man didn't ask for is what I'm talking about. I ain't senile, Granny."

"Adult things need to be monitored."

"Let me speak in peace."

Uncle Charlie's attention went back to the children as he spoke, "Well, if I am asking for a son or a daughter then chances are pretty darn good I want to practice being a Daddy. Good or bad, I want to father a child in hopes to be a daddy to the little crumb snatchers." Uncle Charlie eyed the youngest twins who seemed to delight in the term crumb snatcher whenever he would say it throughout the day.

Uncle Charlie continued with all ears listening for understanding, "I want to be there for the child. I want to help raise the child, but I also think a good daddy is a man who wants to please the woman he has the child with and he helps to make her a good mother. The two go together, Mother and Father. Mother has variations to include Mama. Father has only one, and it is hard to turn it to Daddy though it starts out like Da Da. A man has to be around when that happens. A special relationship has evolved for a child to say the word-Daddy. It is a big responsibility for a man to be a Daddy as you all seem to not be aware of but want anyway. I like to think that if you're going to speak on it, you need to add a Good to the daddy you want. Plenty is playing Santa but ain't really Santa. A Good Daddy is going to make sure he takes care of the family. He has a job. He goes to work every day. He either is out in the field planting crops or he is I guess like a Bill Cosby from-."

"Oh, God in heaven don't let Michonne bring a Bill here. You hear me?"

"Granny, I don't believe that man did those things he was accused-"

"Oh, you talking the fiction on the show with the husband a doctor and the mother a lawyer?"

"I'm talking about examples, Granny. We didn't have that growing up. Leave it to Beaver was no show for us. It just made us envy the white people to have a nice house and food on the table."

"I like the Cosby show."

"I do too!"

"Do you think we will get a Daddy like that?" Abigail never thought of the possibilities.

"Your Mama would more than likely bring us a Washer and Dryer that we need than a No count that would want to come here to be an extra mouth to feed like we can't count that he is an extra mouth." Granny took her soup spoon and orchestrated every emphasis she wanted to be placed on her words that she spoke.

Uncle Charlie continued as if he had a placeholder of where he left off, "I don't know what type of job he would have, but a good daddy will go to work Every day- because he has to keep the Roof over your heads. Electricity, food, clothes and maybe a little entertainment outside the house now and again. Like the Drive-in movie. Daddy should be more than a bag of chips and some soda pop."

"A daddy needs to have a clear mind. A clear mind means clean hands. Dirty mind, dirty hands." Granny added her two cents. She quickly had every join hands to say a quick morning prayer.

"Amen."

Uncle Charlie agreed with Granny. The news was full of things that people use to do in the privacy of home that was now spilling out into the streets.

Uncle Charley swallowed the oatmeal that was becoming less sweet each day. The only way he liked to eat it he had to have it loaded with brown sugar and a dash of cinnamon.

Uncle Charlie was going to wait it out for Michonne to come back before he went into his floorboard for money to give to her to get some more brown sugar. His Oatmeal was almost inedible, but he refused to say so with the children present.

"When Mama brings us our Daddy, he is going to be all of that and more, Uncle Charlie."

"The only thing your Mama is going to bring back to this here house is a washer and Dryer," Granny repeated.

"I gave my Mama the list. She has the list of what we want. We had eight things. One each is what Mama told us to think about, and she had two that she added. She didn't want us to know what they were because it was a secret that she only wanted to share with our, Daddy. But she told me anyway. Love and Patience." Ghost revealed.

"I am the one that wrote the list. Mama wanted me to write it." Carlton chastised his younger sister. He knew what was number one and two. She wasn't special. Ghost thought she was based on the story that was told about her milky white skin.

"Mama had love on her list," Abigail smirked. The smirk grew on all of the children's faces to eventually play upon Uncle Charlie's who shook his head at the idea of a list.

"I don't think your Mama going to have a say to get your Daddy from behind those bars. Prison isn't a place that you can just go and take someone out of it like you say you're going to those dog pounds after the catcher has got him because you didn't chain him good in the big city." Granny had her spoon in the air as if every word was an orchestra of truth.

"The white man makes sure you do your time. Make no mistake about it." Uncle Charlie declared.

"She's going to get us a Daddy." Carlton reaffirmed, and the kids all nodded in agreement.

"She better just bring that washer and dryer. I know that for true. I ain't paying no mind to the rest." Granny said as if her words were final on the subject.

* * *

A/N: This story isn't what you think it's going to be and I know those who are familiar with my random plot driven stories will buckle up for the ride and then there will be some that will get off the rollercoaster asap. This is twisting as you will see in the next chapter and the next. A simple love story, NOT. Thanks for all that choose to read and review and or just read to become immersed in another world of Richonne completely reimagined.


	9. He Read The List For A Daddy

"Dissociative parts of the personality are not actually separate identities or personalities in one body, but rather parts of a single individual that are not yet functioning together in a smooth, coordinated, flexible way. P14"  
― Suzette Boon, Coping with Trauma-Related Dissociation: Skills Training for Patients and Therapists

* * *

In less than an hour the plane was going to land in Chicago and neither of them were able to watch an additional movie or television show. Before Rick could put his earbuds in his ear the woman named Michonne who sat beside him had him so engrossed in conversation that he had no interest to tune her out.

The sound of her voice and the way her mannerisms made her the most fascinating person he had ever encountered. She kept him intrigued. She listened to him. She liked to know things about him with a genuine interest to know how he felt about this or that. Things he never gave a split second thought about, she wanted to know.

"If your favorite color is _brown_ , what is your least favorite color?" Michonne never met anyone that said brown was their favorite color. He was the first.

"Why do you say it like that? I like the color brown. My least favorite color is purple." Rick laughed.

"I thought you were going to say green. I was going to tell you don't ever tell, Marty that. Marty has hazel eyes but the kids tease him calling him the green eyed monster."

"Green eyed monster."

"I told them to stop because he looks just like their, Daddy. They stop when I tell them that. That Marty looks like their Daddy."

"You know green and hazel are not the same?" Rick asked to make sure Michonne was aware.

"I had only eight colors in my crayon box. Doesn't mean I am not aware of the box that had 64 colors, Rick."

"Do you know who their Daddy is? It would probably be wise to speak to him first before introducing another man around his children." Rick suggested.

Michonne shrugged. She felt a headache coming on and it was like the ones she would have before taking to the air and if flying caused the same kind of pain that she knew this one was trying to grow out of control she would never fly again once this experience was over. She had already taken five Tylenols.

"Well, when I show their Daddy the list then I will know who their Daddy is. How about that?"

"Daddy list?"

"I have the Daddy list. You want to see?"

"See it or read it?"

"If you got a college degree from a real school, I am positive you know how to read once I show it to you. Now here."

There was an actual list that Michonne had pulled out from her purse. It was the list she had to show to the man that wanted to know what was required of a Daddy even though he didn't actually ask to know what was required to be her kids Daddy.

1\. Love.

2\. Patience

3\. Potato chips

4\. Soda

6\. Tell Stories

7\. Throw a ball

8\. Tell Granny to go Home.

9\. Tell Granny to stay Home.

10\. Come Back

Rick read the list. He read it twice. He read it the third time out loud.

"Number one, Love. That is a no-brainer, I guess."

"Well, that one is mine. I figured if he could love the kids then it wouldn't be to hard for him to love me. The kids didn't think of it. I did. We all agreed it should be number one."

"Number two, Patience."

"He's going to need plenty of it. Eight kids. I think I am asking for a lot, but the kids have faith. My faith is like a tiny mustard seed." Michonne showed Rick with her index finger and thumb just how tiny her mustard seed was regarding the subject.

"Number three, Potato chips?"

"It's important."

"Soda?"

"Very important."

"Tell Stories?"

"A good imagination is desirable."

"Throw a ball."

"Uncle Charlie tries but he is getting too old, and Carlton really wants someone with a good arm. He believes that his Daddy will be a good thrower of footballs, baseballs, and basketballs. Any other kind he would like to know about since he is very into sports."

"Carlton?"

The name was very close to the name that meant the world to Rick. He was getting the worst migraine.

"Yes. What is so eerie is that Carlton looks a little bit like you. I don't have any pictures with me. I know that it is crazy to not have photos of the children but," Michonne felt an intense headache. The ache was above her eye. She lost her train of thought for a long moment.

Rick tried to press through. He was feeling a heavy shadow that he hadn't felt in more than three years. An occasional feeling of the presence of something or someone familiar or sometimes he would think, Deja Vue. He began to feel warm and a smell that caught his senses but soon vanished.

"I take it someone doesn't like, Granny?"

"She lives in the trailer about 400 hundred yards from the house. She thinks she rules the house and everyone inside. My Uncle Charlie says she is trying to claim what is rightfully his by slowly making everyone crazy."

"Come back?" Rick made it to the last one. The last one on the list was the last request or requirement for A Daddy.

"Sometimes it happens that you go out for milk or smokes, or a loaf of bread but you don't come back." The voice was barely a whisper that left Michonne before she could get hold of what were now fragments of thoughts or possible memories.

"That is a lie!. That is not true. I would always come back. I would." Rick declared not realizing the words were spoken until they left him and when they left him the shadow retreated

Michonne whispered again, "The gaps, Rick. We can't keep falling through the gaps. Three years?"

The turbulence was violent, and the plane was swaying and dipping before climbing higher in the sky, to only drop again.

Michonne had grabbed his hand again and began the Lord's prayer for the fourth time on that flight.

When the plane seemed to settle what was spoken before was as if it was never said, heard or thought of by the two people that were complete strangers to each other.

"Turbulence is like road bumps in the sky? Well, I wish this pilot of this Go Stop airplane would try to avoid them. I felt my spirit jump out of my stomach. If I were going to die, I don't want it to be from falling out of the sky."

Michonne tried to release her hand from his, but his fingers was clasped a moment too long for her liking. She paused. She noticed the contrast of skin color and the way his hand was unfamiliar due to its softness. Soft hands were idle hands according to her Uncle Charlie. Michonne knew right there that he was a lazy man or the odds were that he gave instructions based on his simplified use of the English language either way he wasn't a hard working man that she needed.

She also wasn't going to be hand-holding with a stranger that she just met hours ago. The look she gave him when he snapped out of his stupor and realized he was holding on to her hand for dear life, he let go. After a very brief moment of silence, Michonne found her topic to proceed with.

There was like a placeholder to a conversation that was over two hours ago that Michonne began from because it was never a completed topic and she didn't care if he had any interest. She took the paper from him that had the list of A Daddy. She folded and slid it inside of the unsealed envelope and put it back in her purse.

"We also have, Ghost. She's 6yrs old." Michonne said out of the blue. She put her purse back under the seat in front of her.

"We?"

"My family." Michonne clarified.

Michonne wondered if the man next to her was going to vomit. He had the look of a person who wasn't well. She began to rummage on the back of the seat in front of him for the bag he could throw up in if he needed to do so. Barf bag.

"I'm okay." Rick tried to discourage her from handing him the small white bag. He wasn't going to throw up, but he did feel unwell.

Did you know there is a place in Africa that snatch up Albinos? Animals and humans?"

Rick didn't respond. He had no idea where this conversation was leading, and he was back to feeling like a Captive audience when before he was participating against his better judgment. She refused Sinclaire. She rejected him when he revealed who he was and she only wanted, Rick.

Michonne took his lack of response as a response that he didn't know anything about what she was going to tell him.

"Yes. They think it's for good luck. Body parts so I've read. Ghost is grateful that she isn't in Africa. She would be a necklace. Granny says God has a reason she was given to us. I am not sure of God's reason, but Ghost is grateful. She is pretty smart. She has plenty of sense. All of them have sense, but she has an extra good sense if you let Uncle Charlie tell it."

"Ghost?"

"It was the first thing I thought. You take a look at Ghost, and you will see that she is white as one, only she has red hair. She has all my features practically which is a mystery to me when I look at her, and she is looking at me as if I had said something strange or in a foreign language. Do you speak any foreign languages?"

"I have traveled many places, and yet I have only mastered the English language."

"Well, traveling and living there is two different things, you know? I've heard that you have to live in a place like Mexico for a year to be fluent. Uncle Charlie's says it makes no sense to go to Mexico when a person can go to Texas or Miami."

"You've been to Texas or Miami?"

"No. I don't know if I necessarily want to go since I have been to California. There are a lot of Mexicans there." Michonne babbled. She was embarrassed that she may have come off as racist. She didn't really know what her point was with him looking at her intently. She wondered if he was thinking, did she really say that out loud?

"Not everyone that speaks Spanish is, Mexican." Rick countered what he deemed and offhanded remark.

"I know that. I misspoke. I know there are Hispanics and Puerto Ricans and everything else in-between. All gibberish. Granny says it is all part of the Tower of Babel."

"Tower of Babel?"

"Why we don't understand each other. It was by God's design as punishment."

"God's punishment?"

"One language that doesn't change is Body language. You will always know when someone wants to go to the bathroom to pee."

"What?"

"The kid waiting for someone to come out of there will surely piss himself if they don't hurry."

Rick glanced over the top of the heads that were seated to see a young boy who was quite miserable.

"So is Ghost, yours?"

"She's Suzanna's. I told you how many times that my sister and I were identical twins? She died in childbirth with the last set of twins. Michonne had to come back to help take care of them. All of them. Michonne thinks I may have faked my death. I didn't we just don't acknowledge each other anymore."

"Do you realize nothing that you just said made any sense?"

"Because you aren't trying to keep up."

"You are referring to yourself in a way that indicates you just might be crazy."

"I'm not crazy."

"How do you know?"

"Crazy was on the bus to California. Crazy has you doing things that the majority of people wouldn't do because they know better."

"Like sticking a fork in a plug socket?" Rick threw back at Michonne. It was something she told him she did when she was a child but luckily the electricity was turned off because they didn't pay the bill.

"That is ignorant. Ignorant and Crazy isn't the same. Suicidal and Crazy isn't the same. Crazy is taking off all your clothes and giving a shoe box of money to a complete stranger. That's crazy."

"What?" Rick couldn't believe her example just came off the top of her head unless she was certifiable.

"Are you hard of hearing too?"

"I just can't imagine how you just come up with that example."

"It's not an example to come up with, Sir. To come up with that would mean I am crazy. It really did happen. It happened on the bus. It happened on my way to California. I have the first-hand experience of watching crazy. A black guy name Terry. I was going to show him the list for A Daddy. I mean I was just talking to him. He was sitting across from me on the bus. Just like the man right there that's listening to our conversation." Michonne indicated who and Rick noticed the man had quickly looked away, guilty.  
...


	10. Chicago Ohare Affair

"I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed."  
― A.S. Byatt, Possession

* * *

Rick found himself at the Chicago O'Hare waiting for his next flight with the woman that he couldn't seem to shake when he departed the plane for his two-hour layover. Running into Shane unnerved him on top of everything else. He wondered how obvious he was being with Michonne. Could Shane tell that he was up to no good?

There was no doubt in his mind that if he _had_ indicated that he wasn't trying to score, Shane would have definitely tried to move in on Michonne with as little as a few words. Rick wasn't about to let that happen.

The thought annoyed him. He did give himself away. He knew he must have because Shane didn't try to take Michonne. Shane was an equal opportunist. For Shane, pussy didn't have a face or race and Michonne was a black woman.

Rick didn't like the idea that her sex could belong to anyone but him. Rick obsessed over the odds of getting Michonne in bed with him that he began to get stuck in his head with debating the percentage that was in his favor with the voices that told him his chances were slim to never in this life time again buddy.

"Wow!" Michonne chewed.

"Better than airplane food?" Rick sipped his wine after swallowing his medium rare steak.

"Yeah. Way better than anything that I had eaten while in California. I mostly ate peanut butter sandwiches. Couldn't really afford to eat much with the little money I had. Uncle Charlie made sure he didn't send a dime more than what was asked for. I asked for 50.00 more because I knew he was particular about the amount. I had used it to put towards my flight back to Georgia. I wasn't about to take the bus back. What I didn't have I took from the box. I plan to give it back. I figured if I work a few more hours at Daryl's I could just about pay back what I borrowed."

"Give it back?"

"The crazy man on the Greyhound. He gave me a box full of money before he started stripping off his clothes. I plan to give it back to him when he comes asking for it."

"How much did you take?"

"A few dollars. I don't want to talk about it because it makes me nervous. I don't want to be nervous when I eat. Granny always said never pinch off money that ain't yours to pinch from because you will find the pinch on you." Michonne continued to carve her well done steak into small pieces using her butter knife.

Rick considered what she said. He had so many questions but thought better of asking since she didn't want to be nervous.

Rick counted the silence. He also watched Michonne periodically take in her surroundings. It was the quietest she had ever been. It was a full five minutes before she had asked him anything. He wondered what was on her mind. Her thoughts seemed to keep him out of his own head. For him she allowed him to surface and break free. Air.

"I saw the old lady talking to you." Michonne said without looking up from her plate as she ate.

"What old lady?"

"The one that was reading my palms. I saw her talking to you before she came and talked to me."

"You noticed that?"

"I notice everything and most everyone around me. I thought she was your family at first."

Rick had no intentions of responding. Words did not come to mind. Just the thoughts he didn't want to think about. He also noticed a change in the woman's demeanor that sat across the table from him.

"She was kind of spooky. Do you think she can tell the future?" Michonne asked. She was curious about his thoughts and if what was told to him was similar to what was told to her.

"No."

"What did she say to you?"

"What people want to hear."

"What is it that people want to hear versus what _you_ would want to hear?"

"You are awfully curious." Rick had a slight smile on his face. He began to cut into his steak again. He took a bite from his fork. He noticed that Michonne was watching him.

"I am. I tell the kids to be the same way. I tell them to ask questions. I tell them to want to know. It is unacceptable any other way. Details are important. Can't make a good decision without them. The details if not taking when presented can lead anyone down the wrong way or at least the approach would be all wrong."

Rick placed his fork down and considered what Michonne had said. He was no longer her captive audience. He was captivated and intrigued. She was a book that spilled forth the pages that he felt he had some connection to without any real knowledge that he did.

A part of him knew instinctively that he wasn't going to let go easy, like hang up the phone or allow her to go _right_ while he turned the opposite corner to make a left. This was different. He considered her as if he always had her first in his life.

He felt a shadow of himself step forward before retreating. His head was still cloudy with the mist of another identity or what he rationalized as tiny particles of another self, joining pieces together and whispers of certain aspects he wasn't aware of until that moment.

The smell. He remembered until it was forgotten.

"She said my soul mate is-"

"What?"

Lori was his soulmate but saying the words out loud even then, seemed inaccurate. There was an energy growing, and he was getting lost but no longer in his mind but on the outside of it where sparks were happening every time he looked across the table at the woman who appeared more beautiful as she sought clarity in whatever he revealed about himself or his thoughts in general.

"What did she say about your soul-mate?" Michonne asked again.

She stopped eating her meal that he treated her to at the restaurant inside of the airport. Michonne was apparently interested to know if it was similar to what was told to her.

"It was the strangest thing. I was sitting across from you, and the old lady sat next to me. She knew some things that I wasn't sure how she knew, but she knew that my son was killed. She said that he wanted me to know it was an accident and that he was okay. He's happy, and he is with his Uncle Glen and Uncle Abe..."

Michonne was instantly in tears. She felt the goosebumps and what Rick was sharing with her was coming from an honest place. A real place. He was hurting, and his words revealed it along with the welling of tears from his eyes.

"She mentioned my wife. Time apart is good. She mentioned a soulmate, but I had gotten up from the seat and walked away. I had to take a walk. By the time I came back, she was seated with you, and then her family member finally came and got her." Rick shared what he wasn't sure he could.

He felt a profound feeling of being lost and not knowing where he was and with whom. Rick fought it. He won parts of that war with himself and his mind, but he could not stop the growing ache inside filling up the hollow places in his heart. This was going to be a meltdown if the topic didn't change.

Rick watched Michonne remove the restaurant napkin and began dabbing at her eyes. She lifted up his drink and took the napkin from it, and handed it to him.

"Well," Michonne took in a deep breath, "I want you to know, I wasn't expecting that to be your story. I hope to learn the details when you are ready for me to know them. I am sorry to hear it, but I am glad you wanted to share a part of it. I appreciate you doing it."

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. Rick was thinking about the words she again spoke, how it made him feel and how it made his mind wonder if he was creating more out of nothing. Rick knew he shouldn't be looking for anything more, but the way that she took his hand and they walked along the halls and peered into stores selling Hello Chicago T-Shirts including a jewelry store he hoping that he was going to get laid.

He had purchased her a T-shirt, and when his attention was to find the line, she had one for him too.

"I don't want a shirt Michonne." Rick declined to purchase one for himself.

"You have to want a shirt, Rick. How else are you going to remember this time?"

She was standing close to him. From his guestimation, she was flirting with him, or she wanted a kiss, and the strange desire to do so was almost overwhelming him. Rick had gone in a matter of 8 hours trying to avoid her to find himself more and more attracted to her.

"I don't think this is something I will forget."

"Yes."

Michonne began to wonder about herself and her actions, and now she found herself unable to resist the urge to want to kiss him. He had grabbed her hand when she was walking a way to put back the shirt that he was adamant that he didn't want for himself and it caught her off guard. He had pulled her closer to him. He stepped closer to her, not once understanding how could he ever forget this and the feeling that it gave him being with her in the way that he was with her right then and there.

Her response was a breathless, YES.

Yes. Yes, what? Yes, kiss her. Yes, she is okay with him reserving a hotel room where he could have his way with her?

It was too late. Rick was enjoying himself too much and allowed himself a moment to do something out of character. If he were wrong, he would apologize profusely and possibly purchase a different flight out of Chicago. If he was right, he was going to enjoy this moment of indiscretion, the first of it's kind in his 12-years of marriage to Lori. He was going to Kiss another woman. He didn't care if he had an audience or what people thought. More than likely they would think she was his wife anyway.

His face was moving in closer. Michonne was finding herself lost in blue eyes that were peering down into her brown ones. She wanted to be kissed. She hadn't been kissed in over five years it felt like, and if he wanted to venture down the road, she was willing to take a trip with him. She felt giddy. She was excited and nervous that he was going to be her first white guy. Ever. First married guy ever. First married white man.

He found himself closing in and nothing was stopping him from making a decision that could alter everything that he had always known and believed about himself. There was no turning back. The desire to know superseded the option to go through life wondering what her lips would have felt like against his. He wanted to kiss her badly.

The first kiss inside of the store was okay. It wasn't bad. It was different. Michonne felt rusty at it and felt that maybe it was because of that fact. But when he leaned down to kiss her again she was heady, and all thoughts left her mind. She was melting. She was goo. She wanted to become more familiar with his technique of making her want to do very naughty things if they continued.

For Rick the first kiss was nice, and her lips were as soft as he had imagined them. He was surprised how his heart thumped in his chest and how the beating was even louder to his ears as gazed upon her face indicating that she was okay with being kissed again. The second kiss was electrifying. She was responding this time to what he considered his advances.

Michonne responded to what was happening as if she saw Rick in a brand new light just then and there once the second kiss was over. She saw the look on his face that indicated that he was feeling what she was feeling and it was scary and exciting.

Rick swallowed. He was in trouble. Because when she kissed him the third time Rick felt his mind splintering and reconnecting. The way that Michonne had kissed him on the mouth, he thought he was finally being set free.

Michonne swallowed. She was going to fall in love with a man that had no desirable attributes, but if he can kiss like that and make her feel like he wanted to climb inside and stay for a while, she was more than likely going to oblige him.

The hand holding and the brief shuttle ride to the hotel nearest the airport in Chicago was enough to make Rick giddy with anticipation. He was going to get laid and _oh_ what a relieve it was going to be. He has had almost a year and a half of priest life. This was going to be good, he thought.

He closed the door behind them. Not once did he take his eyes off of Michonne stepping out of her dress with her back still turned to him. That alone was enough of a visual for him to want to rip his very own clothes off. The most voluptuous round ass he had ever laid eyes on was right there in arms reach. He wanted to squeeze. He reached forward but he resisted the urge. He had to concentrate taking his cowboy boots off and remove his socks.

Michonne never had to turn around she could feel his eager reaction to her levels of undress. She unsnapped her bra and slid down her panties slowly before stepping out of them. He had an itch that scratching his eyebrow, his head, his beard, his temple wasn't going to ease.

There was only a minute that lapsed before Rick was completely nude.

Her back was still facing him. He wondered what she wanted him to do next. The bed was a few feet farther from where they stood. He was game to take her right in that very spot. Bent over or on all fours. He was game.

"Come here. Stand behind me." Michonne commanded.

Rick did as he was told.

She gave him no further instructions. He knew exactly what to do. He stood close behind her. His member stiff and grazing her backside. He took his hands and cupped both her breast gently. He took his hands and lightly played with her nipples that reacted to his palms going up and down over them softly. His shallow breathing matched Michonne's. Her breathing hitched when his tongue tasted the back of her neck, trailing along her shoulders. He lost time but he never lost complete moments where he kissed her again or when he entered the spot he was seeking all along. Finally he was home. It felt so good.

Rick couldn't quite quell his desire for her body, his need surged with every position she obliged him. He was drowning in her long drawn out kisses. The strong attraction, her kisses had Rick in a frenzy. He was experiencing what he considered an out of body phenomenon.

He had the most mind shattering climax of his life, he thought. This was hands down the best sex ever for Rick. It was also the most irresponsible since he didn't even consider a condom or if she was on birth control. The fact that he could feel everything made the experience overly stimulating. He held her body down on top of his as he shot his seed inside without a care.

Rick was a man who was dying for water and once presented he didn't care if there was a cup, he wanted to drink to satisfy his thirst. Climaxing was paramount next to making Michonne feel how much he missed doing this with her. Her.


	11. How Many Damn Kids?

"Dissociative Identity Disorder is the most extreme form of PTSD and is the result of the child's desperate attempt to survive and adapt to an overwhelmingly confusing and cruel world."  
― Lynette S. Danylchuk

* * *

"Someone, to help with the kids? How many, now?" Rick was utterly confused on how many children were actually Michonne's and how many were supposedly her sister's Suzanne. The more Michonne spoke the more he couldn't make out what was really the actual number between the two of them.

"You are not listening, or your memory is feeble. For a moment I thought you were really sharp."

"Depends on if we are comparing it to Butter Knife or a Steak Knife. The blade is important, Chonne."

Michonne paused. She tipped her head to the side wondering how well known the saying was that her Uncle Charlie would often say to the kids around the dinner table for it to spill forth so freely from this man that allowed her to sit with him in first class on the flight from Chicago to Georgia.

"What?"

"What part of Georgia are you from?" Rick asked as if it made a difference. "I am asking a simple question, Michonne. You have referred to another child like he is your son."

"Does it matter if I am the one that they count on? I have a lot on my plate and when I get this flying behind me I have to think about finding time for maybe another job on top of the two I am working. The last thing I need is to work myself to death but I am willing to do it because-"

"So there is a last thing you need? For a minute I thought you had just 10 things."

"That list only had two things from me, Love and Patience. Based on that, it is All I need."

Rick fell silent. He wasn't sure why he was upset or fuming but he was and it was growing. He was pissed.

Kick. Kick.

"All I need." Michonne repeated more to herself than to anyone else.

"You have a long list of needs."

"That list is from my kids." Michonne reiterated.

"Who has _that_ type of Penmanship?" Rick asked.

"Carlton."

"Carlton?"

"He is 10."

"I thought they've stopped teaching cursive in school?"

"Probably so. Uncle Charley makes sure they practice. He says if he had to suffer to not know how to read it they would suffer to know how to copy it."

"Uncle Charlie? He doesn't know how to read?"

"He says he doesn't know how. Granny says it is because he is lazy. She believes that everyone should know how to read but she doesn't read either, or at least I am very suspicious if she really knows how to read. If she knows I don't think she comprehends most of what she talks about that is in the bible, she carries with her where ever she goes."

"How do you go through life and not know how to read?" Rick said more to himself. Rhetorical. He wasn't expecting an answer to his question, but Michonne felt compelled to tell him how the story was relayed to her.

"Uncle Charlie said they had a colored school. He said he had a choice to go to school for book learning with a rumbling belly or work the yard with a rumbling belly. He said he rathered worked the yard than trying to decipher words by sounding them out when all you need to know is how to make an X for your name and arithmetic. Money can be added, subtracted and divided and the..."

Michonne trailed off realizing her audience was a white man and she didn't want him to think that her Uncle Charlie was racist even though Uncle Charlie didn't like white people because of their underhanded ways.

What her Uncle Charlie would say is that the White man always makes sure a black man can't multiply. He prevents legal gain by any means possible. He would go on to say that the white man really wanted the black man to understand subtraction and dividing. Adding, was ok because it was more for the white man to take away and only divide enough that they had the majority of the pie. She was glad that she caught herself because she was almost positive that she had a growing audience with the other people sitting close by to hear her and her window seat companion.

Rick felt the kick on the back of his seat again for the third time. He was calculating that it was purposeful. He turned his head to see through the tiny slit in between his place between the seats.

"Could you please not kick my seat?" Rick asked.

"I'm bored." The small voice declared as if it was a good reason to kick his seat.

"And you are rude."

Michonne turned her head to see the small blond hair girl sitting behind the man she was waiting to reveal his name. He had yet to do it and wondered if he wanted to be unknown if the plane went down and she was the only survivor.

"Excuse me?"

"You need to be yourself."

"You need to stop kicking his seat." Michonne shot back.

The glare that Michonne gave was enough for the girl to turn her attention entirely from Rick who was trying to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"Do you know how much trouble you would be in if we were on a cruise ship? What you are doing is walk the plank worthy. Striking a captain is not permitted."

"He's not a captain." The young girl declared.

Rick was finally able to hear the snap that indicated the release of his seatbelt but not before giving the woman next to him a quizzical look.

"He has two brains. He's thinking with one-"

"Where have you been raised?" Michonne gasped. "That is a wash your mouth out worthy comment, and bleach your eyes if you were living with my Granny."

"...you too."

"Two brains is impossible. Where's your guardian?" Rick asked the young girl after a quick look at the woman who was overly animated in her scolding hush tones to a child that neither one of them knew.

"You don't know you have two brains. A brain and a ghost brain."

"Ghost brain?"

"She's here. You can talk to her now." The young girl informed Rick.

"Who?" Rick asked.

"The lady that hides away. She's been sitting with you wondering when you were going to tell her your name. Her other brain won't tell her because that brain wants to keep you all to herself."

Rick glanced at Michonne and then back at the small person that sat behind him, "I have no idea about what you are talking about, but I would like for you to stop kicking my seat. Where're your parents?"

"My parents aren't here on the plane. They are in Georgia. I am with my chaperone. He is also my Agent. My parents are afraid to fly."

"Agent?"

"I was just on the show in Chicago. I'm kind of famous. My name is Judith. I can see colors, and I can hear thoughts. I can see some things before it happens but mostly I can see and hear."

"The lady at the airport today read my palms. She says I was going to find my kids a Daddy." Michonne came off as overly excited. "Can you tell me what he's thinking?" Michonne motioned to Rick.

"He's rude. He says he is going to drop you like a hot potato when the plane lands."

"What?"

Michonne watched Rick sit back in his seat. The look of guilt.

"He thinks he remembers you and he is furious at his other brain for tricking him to staying asleep while you trick him again."

The pain was back. It was sharp and sudden. The heaviness was in Michonne's chest.

" _Alright_. She's here. You can now talk it out before the plane lands in Georgia in 15 minutes.

"How many kids do we have, Chonne?"

"Maybe if you hung around you would know. Instead, you go off telling us that you are going to come back and you don't. You keep looking for your wife while we are real. She calls, and you run off to her. I will NOT call you by any other name, well maybe an asshole. I will call you an asshole because you are an asshole."

"You didn't answer my question, Chonne. How many kids do we have together?"

"Eight."

Rick kicked the seat in front of him. Luckily there wasn't anyone sitting in first class in the row in front of them.

"What the fuck?" He questioned everything.

Michonne could hear clearly his southern drawl. She was wondering how long he could last pretending to be someone that she didn't recognize. Suzanne was privy to the details unshared, but Michonne had to deal with all the nuances and the mess that was left behind by her alter.

His beard was distracting her so she had to look ahead.

"How in the hell did we come about having eight kids together, Chonne?"

"I have no idea, but I think, Sinclaire has a thing for chocolate."

"Or you must be really ridiculously good in bed to keep him coming back for more." Rick conceded. He had fragments. Just very brief glimpses of peering in through what was happening in his surroundings before fading out where his alter would take over and then push him forth to fix the mess that was created.

Her dark skin all over his body. His white skin all over her body. She riding him like a bronco and he flipping her over to give it to her like a stallion. He was aroused again. Damn it. He was sure of one thing he was going to have blue balls to play with if he didn't get a hotel room soon and then he remembered...

Michonne could hear the girl that was no more than 10years old endless giggles from the seat behind Rick.

"Change the channel in your brain we got someone that is enjoying thoughts not suitable for a child under the age 17."

"You and me, Michonne?"

"Promise you it is not me. I have standards and a preference believe it or not. If I had a choice it would be Mike hands down." Michonne didn't mince words. "I have no idea what would put me in a situation to have a child with you outside of a zombie apocalypse.

"Eight doesn't make a child, Chonne. We have children. I think my wife might have known about this. I think she found out at some point." Rick was struggling with Sinclaire to release more information. He didn't want to be in the dark any longer.

"Probably because I ended up on her doorstep. I wished in that moment I had all eight with me too. More of a dramatic effect."

"The hell?"

"Nothing was going to ever move things along if I didn't step in. I am tired of staying mostly silent on this issue. I have a voice in these matters and I am going to be heard." Michonne spoke decisively.

"Move things along? What do you want from me that I couldn't give you with me in California and you in Georgia?"

"Support. Financial would be nice. You visiting and helping would be even better. Not asking for much. You read the list. The kids aren't asking for much either."

"Oh my God Woman!"

"All I need."

...


	12. Shane Knows

"I love the idea of reincarnation, so just in case it doesn't exist, I decided to be different people in the same lifetime."  
― Nuno Roque

* * *

"I am at the O'Hare. His plane should be arriving in a few minutes."

"You understand that if he doesn't respond to Rick when you call out his name you need to be on the next flight out to California."

"I thought you wanted me to follow him back to Georgia to find out where he gets lost from the point of coming to see you?"

"Ella and I still want you to trail him. We won't have peace unless we know exactly where he vanishes off too. A good thing you were in Chicago, Ella wanted me to tell you. If things are exactly the way we think we would like you to let the Board of Directors know that Rick has taken another Hiatus and that you will or are stepping in for him until he is ready or..."

"I got it, Senior. You know this isn't my first Rodeo." Shane tried to reassure the older man that was more like a father to him than his own Daddy.

"We are grateful that we can count on you to step in." Senior was sincerely appreciative as they spoke over the phone.

"He was doing good for a while there."

Shane acknowledged the lengthy stint that his childhood friend and college roommate was able to maintain the degree of being normal to the point he was OCD about things that shouldn't matter. Details.

"Three years. He has been able to stay away from Georgia, two years straight. He has been able to maintain a level head even when what happened to Carl. I was positive that alone would send him over the edge to never return."

"You aren't alone. I was out there in California for the funeral and stayed for a few months just to make sure. He went to work. He still went to the golf course and played racquetball. Travelled for business even. I was worried for a minute when he got a new phone number. I was worried that I let my guard down, and he had gone off the grid again."

"He was still with us. His mother Ella was instrumental with that by being there and monitoring that switch didn't flip, and instead of Sinclaire we had Rick in the building."

"How many did he have? Personalities?"

"6 according to the doctor. The doctor was able to help resolve the splits one by one. The only one left is Sinclaire."

"Well if I had to choose, I would go with Sinclaire. He is a whole lot more fun than, Rick."

"In college, you spent a lot of time with who you refer to as Sinclaire. When you were younger, you just thought he could do make-believe. Pretend. We thought so too, but it was getting to the point of being very disruptive to his education and his home life here with us that we had to send him away for a while."

"I have a return ticket to Georgia, and if it is the case that he doesn't acknowledge me calling him Rick, I will make sure to tell you." Shane promised the older man over the phone as he stood waiting for his friend to come off the plane that landed at O'Hare.

"Thank you, Shane."

"No problem, Senior."

Within about five minutes later he saw his friend. Even with the beard he recognized him immediately going in the direction for his connector flight. Rick would have to pass by him and soon as he did he would call out his name as he passed.

There was a woman with him. For a split second Shane thought they weren't together but they had linked hands walking side by side chatting away. The other woman was just an inch shorter than Rick. African American woman with Dreadlocks and dark skin. The dress she wore may have been plain but she had a very nice shape from what Shane could see. He knew who it was instantly.

"Sinclaire?" Shane began.

Sinclaire stopped in his tracks.

"Shane?"

While the two men embraced, Suzanne couldn't help the smile that was plastered on her face because Sinclaire had introduced her to a friend of his. A real life person. Someone that was connected to him in some way that was unfamiliar to her. He was handsome and he said his name was Shane. He thought she was a good looking woman.

"How does a good looking woman such as yourself come to be in the company of a Sinclaire Grimes, himself?" Shane asked. He was curious if she remembered him.

"We shared the same flight from California. We sat together." Suzanne touched Rick's arm who tensed up.

"Is that so? How does a man like him ever get so lucky, I wonder?"

Shane knew the woman he was standing up close to that seem to have no clue to who he was and that they had met twice in Dr. Deanna's office waiting room years ago. Shane was there waiting on his friend Rick, and Michonne was there waiting for her session with an old man that looked to be in his eighties sitting by her side. Shane remarked to the man that he looked just like Morgan Freeman and his only response to it was, 'I know. You said that to me the last time, son'.

Dr. Deanna was a clinical psychologist, that specialized in dissociative identity disorder (DID). It explained a lot regarding Rick's amnesia of events but it didn't give light to what would cause him to vanish for long periods of time. 10 years of now you see him and now you don't was hard on Lori and his son Carl. His longest time with staying place was the last three years.

"Well-" Michonne began. She had a placeholder that came out of nowhere from a long ago conversation that she never finished.

"We are not together in the way you are implying. Like the lady said we shared seats on the flight. Nothing more." Rick was terse. He wanted no crossing of wires or innuendos going around that he was having an affair. He went from A to Z.

A to Z was every indication that the man that stood before Shane was, Rick. Goody two shoes don't think for a second I would put my hand in a different cookie jar full of sweet cookies when I have an empty jar at home-Rick. Yep, it was Rick and the switcheroo was different and it made Shane wonder if Rick was trying to throw him off the trail of something big that has been going on.

The look on the woman's face that was introduced to him as Michonne, indicated that it was news to her too. She was completely puzzled.

...

A/N: Now dear readers you get the gist. Yes. The official Rabbit hole tumbling will begin...

P.S. I corrected errors and will go over again to make sure the story flows as seamlessly as possible. This is similar to Til The Casket Drops but NOT at all Til The Casket Drops. NOT at All.

Thanks for those who continue to read and enjoy odd tales.


	13. I Thought I Had Killed You

"The more of me I be,  
The clearer I can see."  
 **― Rachel Archelaus **

* * *

Rick and Michonne had planned to go their separate ways once the plane reached Atlanta. They couldn't reach an agreement on the best way to proceed.

 _'Drop me like a hot potato?'_ Michonne thought to herself. The little girl behind them on the plane had revealed Rick's intentions, and it caused her to be aggressive with spelling out the terms that had no order nor rhyme or reason.

She refused to hear him out regarding any other suggestion, such as financial support without any interaction with the children. Rick was ready to stroke her a check.

"The amount would buy a lot of potato chips and soda," replied Rick as they walked in the direction of baggage claims together.

Michonne picked up her pace without a response and left him to walk alone while she escaped into the nearest ladies room.

Minutes had gone by before Michonne could get a grip. The temporary solitude provided by her surroundings inside of the ladies room in the Atlanta airport was a relief. She could unbottle all her thoughts and have a long talk with the one she blamed.

She was unsure how she was going to get back to the little town in between a bigger nowhere and how did I get stuck the fuck here. The debate that raged in her head with her twin was whether or not she was going to remain present.

The responsibility of Suzanne's mess was daunting and caused her to threaten to kill herself-figuratively. The poor decision of the other all reflected on her. They felt strongly that they were not one and the same. It was a reflection on Michonne.

Michonne was pissed. She noticed what she had on and it seem to piss her off even more that Suzanne had her dressed again in another old dress. This one had bright flowers. She stared at herself in the mirror. The foul mood was written all over her face.

'I thought I strangled you.' Michonne began.

 _'You did.'_

'Then how are you back?'

 _'The walking dead is what you would be, Michonne. I was just playing dead_.' Suzanne replied with a giggle of mischief.

'You died. I killed you. Told Granny and Uncle Charlie to bury you in the back when the twins were born. They were happy that they wouldn't have to deal with you and the calamity that's attached.'

Michonne was very sure that was a look of relief on her Uncle Charlie's and Granny's face when she told them and not that she was still crazy.

 _'I Re-animated for the sake of the kids. Besides, they all think you are mean. You don't love on them or-.'_

'I am not mean. I am fair. There is a difference.'

 _'They are not to be blamed_.'

'I don't blame them. I blame you.'

 _'Sometimes we have to work with a short hand. That's what Uncle Charlie would say. You have to work with what you got and make the best of it. No fault of anyone but the times. The way things used to be. Only we can break the cycle. Have to care enough to do it_.'

The tears began to well up in her eyes. She watched them begin to fall and travel down her cheek. A couple of drops followed the tip of her nose to spill on the sink counter.

'It's all your fault.' Michonne insisted.

 _'Not so._ ' Suzanne rejected.

Suzanne refused to take responsibility for everything just because her twin chose to not remember. Her twin that would never remain present, always preferring to fall into the darkness unless it was about Mike.

 _'You should see what I see. If you could, you wouldn't be so hard headed_.'

'See what Suzanne? What?'

Michonne couldn't stop the tears from falling.

 _'You only need to look at him. He loves me. Always loved me_.'

'I only see a white man that loves to get you in bed. A white man that keeps your silly ass knocked up and pregnant. A white man that leaves you every time. You could have done badly with your own kind. That's what Granny would say. Remember?'

The only memory that Suzanne chose to share was the sun beating down on her skin and the blue eyes staring on the other side of the clothesline before falling to the ground with a thud, taking the Superman sheet with him on his way down. She shared that memory with Michonne to prove her point.

He always came back.

The memory was enough for Michonne to wipe her face with water to make sure her face wasn't tear-stained. She dabbed at her skin with a paper towel. The cold water caused her to realize in the mirror there were others that had entered the restroom watching her talk to herself. She realized only then she had an audience of bewildered, she left them behind to wonder. She didn't give them a second glance as she exited the ladies room to go and claim her suitcase.


	14. He Has A Talk With Self

We see in order to move; we move in order to see."  
 **― William Gibson**

* * *

Rick was surprised that Michonne went left into the ladies room. He was just offering her money. All she needed to do was name the amount. He wondered if she was pissed because he mentioned chips and soda? The debate in his mind was waging and he went into men's room.

The whispers had gotten louder, and Rick was glad that he was alone. When he couldn't find privacy he found himself in a stall to think things through. To talk it out with the others that all had an opinion about things. He had his cheering squad and Sinclaire.

They all outvoted him about who they liked the best. They all loved Suzanne. She was friendly and even-tempered. She was a talker, and she wanted to have sex often. Suzanne hands down was the clear winner.

Rick questioned their choice. He was the only one that went against their vote with a non-vote. He had experience with Susanne, and he felt that she talked entirely too much. Yap, Yap, Yap.

There was a time on the plane where he wondered where all the words were coming from and why were they directed at him to answer? He was pushed forward to amuse the others to prove that he had no social skills. The other's insisted he was boring and didn't know how to sample anything but bland and vanilla.

Rick honestly wasn't into chocolate anything, and the lie about brown being his favorite color was downright diabolical of Sinclaire who's favorite color was actually brown. His favorite color was all shades of white. Clean.

He was feeling very blue.

 _'you are the only one that has slept with Michonne. That's why you feel the way you do._ '

'That is a damn lie.' Rick refuted.

 _'It is not_.' Sinclaire mocked.

'Is too.'

 _''It was five years ago. You were the only one that slept with her. It scared us. It frightened us all that we were becoming one, losing our individuality. You were slowly gluing us together, and if she didn't climb off of you when she did we would have..._ '

'Would have _what_?'

 _'Become of one mind to stay_.'

'You think I am going to have sex with Michonne for a piece of Sanity you are out of your mind. I am a married man. I have a wife. I have a son that is cold in the ground, and you _all_ want me to go play Daddy to kids that aren't even my own? How sick are you?' Rick spat. He was disgusted.

 _'You weren't thinking that with Suzanna a few hours ago. Chicago, Hilton.' Sinclaire reminded._

'That was an indiscretion that I won't repeat. I won't repeat it. I wanted to get laid, and I got laid. I had a lot of things pint up. Released it now. Now I can think about other things. My mind is clearer than it has been for awhile. Well, with the exception of you.'

 _'It was good wasn't it.'_

'I am not discussing it.'

 _'I deserve thanks for pushing you forward to have all night with her and into the next.'_

'I am not discussing it.'

 _'Tight and wet and ready. Always ready. She likes the way you give it to her. She likes it. She wants it. She wants it every night. Do you remember how she begged for it?'_

'You made a mess of things, Sinclaire. It's because of you I am in this situation. I told her I wasn't going to meet the kids. I didn't create them. They aren't my problem.'

 _'You didn't mean it._ '

'I meant it.'

 _'You are an ass._ '

 _'I didn't create the problem. I wasn't even present'_.

 _'What was that talk about shouldering the responsibility just an hour ago? What changed? You were going to go and then to change your mind because you think the other plan of avoidance is going to make it better is a sign that you are still very unwell. We go right in. We take down problems head-on. If not, It will only find us later. A festering wound. It will grow, and we could have done something while we have enough of us to help. We can make an impression when it is the time like right now to make it. Before it's too late'._

'Why are you taking my thoughts as if they are yours? You wish you had my character'.

'Very irresponsible of you, Rick. Irresponsible'. Sinclaire cajoled.

The words resonated in his psyche.

Rick caved quickly, but not before a memory of an event that actually did happen five years ago. A memory buried along with the others.

He had hitched hiked from California to Georgia. The recall had Rick frozen in place with his hand on the lock of the restroom stall he was in, no longer talking out loud to himself. He had traveled miles without his identity on his person but he slid it inside of a shoebox on the foot of his mother's bed.

Rick had practically walked miles and miles to get to her. He had walked the remainder of a hundred yards to find her hanging bed sheets on a clothesline. The heat of the sun and the brown eyes that told him he was home. Finally back home. Rick wasn't sure if it was the feeling of love or exhaustion that caused him to pass out cold on the ground, falling at her feet taking down the child printed superman bedsheet with him.

He always found a way to be with her.

There was an audience on the outside of the door listening for Rick to continue with talking to himself and answering himself. Rick wasn't aware of it because he was lost in his head with just minutes to spare before he had to retrieve his luggage from baggage claims and to get the keys for the rental car he had reserved in advance. He walked past the spectators as if they had a problem, washed and dried his hands and exited.


	15. Baggage

"There are no roses in my yard: what wind brought you?  
But I suddenly come from far away. I was sick for a moment.  
No wind whatsoever brought you now.  
Now you're here.  
What you were isn't you, or else the whole rose would be here."  
 **― Alberto Caeiro, The Collected Poems of Alberto Caeiro**

* * *

Michonne was there waiting for her suitcase, checking every black bag as if she could not identify anything special about her one piece that she got from her Granny.

Rick noticed her in the bright dress that he had complimented her on, when leaving the hotel they shared near the Chicago airport before arriving in Atlanta. It was an awkward compliment, but she was looking for approval, and he had to swallow before he could speak and if it weren't for the imaginary pain of a kick from his alter Sinclaire to tell her she was beautiful, he would have told her the truth. She looked like she fell in a flower bed of flowers with that dress on. The bright colors against her dark skin emphasized the details that would forever be embedded in his memory. Colors.

He quickly tried to pretend that he didn't notice Michonne when he had finally emerged from the men's room. He fidgeted with his phone, his wallet, his watch and he scratched the places that itched the most, and that was mainly his eyebrow. Rick had no one on his right shoulder nor the left. He just had his head and his brain. A decision was made, and he was going to go with the reconsideration, and the only reason was that the voices had quieted in his head. He was left to his own devices now that things seemed to be settled and a course of action was plotted. He was going to get his two suitcases and go over to 'You Need A Rental' give them his payment information, get the keys and hightail it out of dodge in the direction of his father that was waiting for him to arrive. He had abruptly changed his mind. Again.

It was going to be simple. Simple enough if he hadn't cared to help her relax and think about what made her suitcase more special than the four hundred other bags that were going around the conveyer. His hand rested lightly on her lower back as he calmly talked to her about which one would be hers.

"I've never flown before." Michonne didn't know how to tell him that her Granny gave the suitcase to Suzanne and that it was Suzanne who could recognize it out of a sea of black luggage.

"Now, that you are at the end of this trip, you can say you have."

Rick smiled slightly, still avoiding full eye contact by looking at things just beyond her shoulder or at a particular yellow flower that was printed right above her breast and another one on her shoulders.

"I can." Michonne smiled.

Rick had to look away, or he was going to be stuck. He had a great time with Michonne, and it was just a one-time thing he reminded himself now that he was alone to rationalize things appropriately in his mind.

He agreed privately that Suzanne was great in bed, and Rick realized with this acknowledgment that he could quickly acquire a taste for more, but he wasn't a weak man by any means unlike his alter, who did actually have a weakness for chocolate.

This particular chocolate was Sinclaire's favorite, go to piece of candy out of any bowl or sea of chocolates. His preference and only choice was the woman wearing dreads, flawless skin, nice ass and a contagious smile. She even had him smiling.

Whenever Rick was with Lori, Sinclaire would immediately fall back into the recesses whispering that, Michonne was much better in bed. Much better. Yeah, he was glad he could agree with that privately.

"About what happened," Rick was trying to figure out just what to say to make sure they were on good terms.

"Yeah, about that..." Michonne smiled dreamily at him. Suzanne stepped forward because Michonne had gone blank.

Rick began in hush tones to make sure they weren't overheard, "I had a good time, and it was kind of my first time..."

Rick tried to lead her to understand what he meant by trying to explain that this was possibly his first time being actively present and when they were together at the hotel in Chicago.

"I was actively present too, Rick. Michonne, well she would rather die than be with..." Michonne trailed off and in weaved Suzanne to indicate when Michonne would more than likely retreat.

What Suzanne was going to say was that Michonne would rather die a slow painful death than to have knowingly had sex with a pink deformed looking dick.

Michonne had never looked upon Rick in that way to know if it was deformed, but she was very sure the color alone would be very off-putting so it might as well be deformed. Her alter, Suzanne was much more adventurous and accepting of the rainbow of love when it came to a penis. She only had one person her whole entire life, and it was the shade of pink that was always happy to see her.

Rick wondered for a moment what was going to be said to finish her sentence but shrugged it off as if it wasn't as important than what he had to express.

"I'm married. I have a wife. I am only here for hopefully a short time until I can figure this thing out about being separated."

"Okay." Michonne wasn't sure what she was to do with that information without cussing, so she actively allowed Suzanne the stage.

Suzanne could always see the positive side to things. Everything presented was a chance and what's one more day with a Chance? Don't you want one more day?

Rick, read hope in her eyes. He could have sworn he saw a glimmer of it and he had to figure out a way to make her understand without upsetting her.

"I don't know what you want from me." Rick was honest.

"What you are willing to give to me is what I want."

"Give to you? I-like I said, I am married. I have a wife. We had a son named Carl, and he died, and I'm not sure what good could come out of me being around the kids when they are looking for what wasn't on the list."

"They want you to come back."

"That was on the list but...I _can't_ _stay_. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you? I can provide most everything on the list, but I _can't_ _stay_."

"As long as we stick to what is on the list then we can worry about what isn't on the list," Michonne responded. It was Michonne. Her response was direct and straightforward. She checked her Seiko watch for the time and realized she needed a battery. The time was wrong. She had nothing else to divert her eyes and take her attention from blue eyes looking at _her_. Divert.

The answer. He was to focus. Focus on one thing at a time and everything else would fall into place. Michonne checking her watch reminded him they were running out of time to get the rental.

"Where do you live again?"

"It's way before you get to King's County."

He picked up his suitcases, and hers too. He got the rental, and they left the airport together.


	16. Who Would Give Suzanne Money?

"We never know which lives we influence, or when, or why."  
 **― Stephen King, 11/22/63**

* * *

"1700. 1720. 1740. 1760..."

"We can only pray." Granny shook her head.

"Looks to be the cursive writing done by Suzanne." Uncle Charlie surmised by the extra loops and swirls to the letters on the handwritten note. The letter S was also and indication at the bottom of the letter.

"No telling what kind of devilment she found herself always in the middle of. She always smiling at people." Granny criticized the friendliness that she tried to warn that grown child about to this very day.

"Yes, indeed. No sense." Uncle Charlie responded lost in thought.

"Too much smiling and talking make the devil think he can take your hand and lead you down the wrong path. She just doesn't _listen_."

Granny shook her head at the thoughts that crossed her mind about sextrading and Suzanne out in California without a chaperone to reel her in from the devils stronghold.

Uncle Charlie couldn't make sense of the letter he was holding, and he looked to Carlton who was the most proficient reader of print and cursive handwriting to read it aloud. Abigail and Ghost were next in line for reading and counting money. Abigail and Ghost understood multiplication as if it was easy as adding 1+1.

Now, Uncle Charlie had a preference, and it was Michonne. She was strong-willed and no-nonsense. She only saw one side, and that was the right side of things compared to Suzanne who just saw gray with the rainbow potentially at the other end of any which way of the spectrum. Silver lining. One thing Uncle Charlie knew for sure was that Michonne wasn't there when what ever happened and if _Suzanne_ was writing letters, that meant there was going to be a toss-up of who was coming back home from California.

Uncle Charlie held the letter up again as if he could read the contents. The only thing he could recognize was that he didn't see the words Price is Right. Maybe it was the winnings?

"What does the letter say, boy?" Uncle Charlie was anxious to know the contents that were written for him to have first hand knowledge about.

The old man reached the letter to Carlton who was at 2k twenty dollars and counting from the first rolled up wad of 20 dollar bills with a few hundred dollar bills stashed in between.

"Which one you want me to do, Uncle Charlie, read the letter or count the money?" Carlton asked exasperatedly that he had to stop again.

"Read for your Uncle." Granny scolded.

Carlton handed the money to his sister, Ghost and took the letter almost begrudgingly. He received a tap on the back of his head from his Granny. It didn't hurt but it was a reminder to be respectful.

Ghost wrote down where her brother Carlton had left off this time. She took the money and began to recount for accuracy. Abigail was already unwinding a roll to start counting.

"Where did she get this shoe box from?" Granny asked out loud as if the answer was readily available without reading the letter that was found inside with a great deal of money.

"Read what your Mama, got on this here paper addressed to me. Read it, boy. You can start back to counting when you finish with the letter."

All the children sat around the kitchen table in awe of all the money. Money and lots of it.

 ** _"Dear Uncle Charlie,_**

 ** _The world is crazy as you have said a million times. A million times crazy. I saw crazy do the three Cs. Chaos, Confusion, and Commotion. All three while trying to get to California. Crazy was on the bus and gave me this shoe box to hold for him while the police escorted him off the Greyhound_ _..._**

"That much money? Why didn't she give it to the police." Granny had her hand on her hip staring over Carlton's shoulder as he read.

"The hell for? She has honest hands. Honest hands." Uncle Charlie declared.

"The crazy man asked her to hold it in good faith. If he wanted the police to have it, he would have chosen them, and he would never get it back. Never. Thieves they are. They have laws you say to find ways to keep gain whether gotten with clean hands or dirty hands." Uncle Charlie shook his head at the thought of the money that was going to come in good use. Better in his hands than in the hands and pockets of thieves, he thought to himself. "Keep reading, boy."

Uncle Charlie insisted of Carlton, dismissing Granny and the notion of giving untraceable cash to legalized thievery.

 ** _I promised to hold it for him, and I know you have a perfect place to hide it away just in case he never comes back to claim it. I wasn't sure what to do with it, and I wasn't sure what was in it until I got to my motel. My honest hands are recognizable. I pray the children have the same as they grow._**

 ** _I will be home soon,_**  
 ** _Love_**  
 ** _S_**

"Mama met a crazy person, indeed!" Marty exclaimed with his palm on the middle of his forehead. Andre nodded in agreement. The three year old twins giggled while Billie Joe tried to see how much money was written on the paper that they counted up to so far.

"Are we giving it back, Uncle Charlie?" Billie Jo asked curious.

" _We_?" Granny questioned Billie Jo's usage of the word as if she had some decision in grown folks matter.

" _We_ will do what is right by it." Uncle Charley declared.

"What is that, Uncle Charlie?" Carlton asked.

"Put it to good use. I got my money back that I gave your Mama for the taxes on the prizes. We have more than enough to take about 50 dollars to have the pipes, and the water heater tended too and maybe 20 dollars more to get that van a working again. Michonne won't have to walk to get home from work in the dark if we get the van running."

Granny didn't feel like explaining to Uncle Charlie that it wasn't 1950 where the only thing that changed was the year. Prices for a loaf of bread was nearer 3 dollars which was the reason why Granny chose to bake her own when she had the ingredients to do so. No, Granny wasn't going to remind Uncle Charlie that the price of things that he wanted to have repaired wasn't going to be just a few dollars. Her concern was if that Suzanne gave away the address to a stranger that had nothing to do with delivering a washer and dryer she was going to shoot first anyone walking up out of the blue so help her God she was going to pull the trigger.

"I pray that she didn't give them the address here." Granny spoke her thoughts. She wanted Uncle Charlie to consider that instead of focusing on putting it under the floorboard of his bedroom.

"No telling with Suzanne. We got the shotgun loaded and ready go. I guess that is all that matters." Uncle Charlie considered and settled Granny's worry.

Granny pressed the bible to her chest. Her thoughts were also to give 10 percent of it to the Bible ministry on TV and another 10 percent to the church she attended once a month. Give a tithe to God in order for what was left over to be blessed. She felt deeply about it. She kept it to herself.

"We keep the mailbox removed until we know the washing machine coming. Problem solved." Carlton suggested more regarding their safety.

Carlton was in charge of placing the mailbox by the side of the road when they were expecting something important. Bills weren't important. Legal letters to take Uncle Charlie's land wasn't important. What was important was the washer and Dryer and the delivery of the shoe box that his mother told him about over the phone. He had to have the mailbox out because she had sent a package. A high priority package that needed a signature. He sat on a bucket with Ghost for 4 hours for the mailman to deliver it. Once Carlton signed, he handed the package to Ghost to carry while he carried the mailbox to sit outside against the back of the house until he was ever instructed otherwise. They had left the bucket right there.

Uncle Charlie sat back in his chair. He was prioritizing the importance of what was needed to be done around the place. He figured that everything could be done for about Fifty dollars if they waited a little bit longer for someone to answer Michonne's Craigslist Advertisement with a full understanding that he wasn't going to pay more than 50 dollars.

"Lesson to learn here..." Uncle Charlie spoke directly to the children that sat around listening for the understanding regarding unexpected windfall.

"This is a blessing!"  
_


	17. The Ride Home

"I am convinced that most people do not grow up...We marry and dare to have children and call that growing up. I think what we do is mostly grow old. We carry accumulation of years in our bodies, and on our faces, but generally our real selves, the children inside, are innocent and shy as magnolias."  
 **― Maya Angelou, ****Letter to My Daughter **

* * *

Suzanne realized that he was slightly different the whole 10 minutes that it took him to make a decision that he was going to stick with, which included at minimum a ride home.

There was no weaving in out of Sinclaire. Just Rick. She chose to sit it out and allow Michonne to take the reins so she could rest. The thought of him not coming back to help her take care of the kids was nearly draining as was the sex. He was insatiable.

Michonne gazed out the window of the beautiful car that was provided to Rick by 'You Need A Rental.' It still had the new car smell. Michonne inhaled and settled into her seat and watched everything she could capture in her line of sight of what was Atlanta. They were headed to her small town that she programmed in the navigation for Rick to follow the automated voice command.

It was strangely comforting. Michonne didn't allow it to really distract her from focusing her thoughts on Suzanne. It was her sister who fell in love with Rick years ago. It happened when he came out of a session with Dr. Deanna. Almost 10 years ago to be exact. Suzanne had never been more sure about anyone than the one that introduced himself to her that day, Sinclaire.

Suzanne was revealing a few glimpses of that moment, but Michonne turned away, preferring to have no knowledge of what it was like to meet him the first time. He was a white guy with dreadlocks. The sight was too much for Michonne.

Rick noticed Michonne shaking her head as if she was declining something from the corner of his eye. He wanted to ask if she was okay but thought better of it. It was her private thoughts that Rick didn't necessarily want to have knowledge of either. He learned quickly that talk a lot Suzanne could reappear if he overstimulated the woman that he found oddly mysterious.

With the memory snatched away by Suzanne, Michonne began to take notice of the man in the driver seat who was lost in his own private thoughts. He was much older looking with all the hair on his face. He had a hickey on his neck. Bright red. It made her stomach turned to think that Suzanne at her age would mark a grown ass man when she too was a grown ass woman.

Michonne realized she was staring too long because he had caught her. She found the dashboard to the car a fascinating distraction.

Rick caught her checking him out. He began to wonder what she was thinking and thought better of asking even though a desire started to grow to want to have a conversation of some type, he resigned himself to the fact that if she wanted him to know her thoughts, she would speak up and tell him what was on her mind. No sooner he thought it, she did.

"Why do you let her do that to you?" Michonne asked.

"Do what?"

"Suck on your neck?"

"Suck on my neck?" Rick repeated.

Michonne couldn't help it, she was compelled to touch him. She didn't think to resist the compulsion to reach the spot on his skin with her fingertip and tap it so quick as if she just smashed a bug that was feasting right there at the center. X marked the spot.

There wasn't anything gentle about the touch, and it wasn't that he was looking for it from the woman that he was taking home to meet her children. Hell, he had it in his mind that he was going to run off as soon as her back was turned. That plan was formulated 3 miles back.

Rick turned the rearview mirror slightly as he eased upward to see what she was talking about and it was there for the world as clear evidence of his infidelity.

"Damn it! I'm a married man, Michonne."

"Don't cuss me. I didn't suck on your neck. Couldn't pay me to suck your pinky finger." Michonne shook her head as if she was being offered a choice and she was declining them both.

"That's not what the rumor is."

"What rumor?"

Rick was about to divulge what his cheering squad had been whispering about for years. He thought better of it. It was something that he didn't remember nor was he trying to ask for a replay of events that took place years ago. 5 years ago to be exact.

"What rumor?" Michonne was curious.

"I didn't _let_ Suzanne do this to me."

"Mmm." Michonne didn't believe one word. "What rumor?" She repeated.

"What are you implying with the-Mmm?"

"You didn't resist."

"Normally, I do. That was the only time that I..." Rick was uncomfortable with the conversation and his active role. He had actively participated this time.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

Rick remained silent.

"You've messed around before." Michonne accused. She didn't have any evidence, but she was positive that the Rick who was driving had cheated before and Suzanne wasn't the first.

"I have not!"

"How was it so easy for you this supposed one time?"

"What are you saying, Michonne?"

"You cheated on your wife before this, sir."

"I have never cheated on Lori. I have never actively engaged in activities before last night. The only time was last night. Only time, Michonne."

"You profess to much. Liar."

"That was you who I kissed in the store at the airport? We were kissing, right? It was you with your back to me, Right?"

Michonne didn't respond. She was ready to retreat, but Suzanne wouldn't allow her to run away. She regretted pointing out the hickey on his neck. Mute was the next best thing to amnesia.

It was her he kissed in the airport shop. The first kiss. Michonne was strangely curious about what thin lips felt like and if they were as kissable as Suzanne would always talk about when she compared them to Mike's. She was compelled again to find out.

The second kiss was Michonne but anything after it was Suzanne weaving more in than out. Suzanne knew when Miconne had reached her limit.

Michonne also found herself naked in the hotel room with her back to him. He was fondling her breast with soft white hands. If she had kept her eyes closed, she would have allowed him to continue. Michonne retreated immediately afraid to go any further with Suzanne's antics of sexing him so well he would gladly come home.

This sex was different for Suzanne because the man in the hotel room wasn't Sinclaire. For Suzanne, Sinclaire was a skilled lover, a complete horndog for her. Rick was without any technique. He was nervous, and he fumbled with sexy talk. Rick came quickly at least, twice and he wasn't good at giving oral or playing with her kitty, but he was overly zealous for it to be performed on him. After a while, Rick's rhythmless humping with his slightly flaccid penis had Suzanne faking orgasms because he wouldn't stop, she was unaware that he was scared that he would never get any sex for a long time. He had only ever been with Lori.

Suzanne was sexing Rick, and she didn't like it. She kept that knowledge hidden from Michonne who was under the impression that it was great based on the morning glow and shy smiles shared by the two of them when they finally got dressed. Michonne retreated again even then, too.

"My point exactly." Rick continued. "It is none of your business. If Suzanne didn't talk so damn much, I would tell you to bring her out on this car ride. But she talks and talks."

Michonne stayed silent. She had her thoughts to contend with, and Rick became a minor distraction. He wasn't worth taking down a notch while she was in actual search of Suzanne. She wanted to know if Suzanne was aware of any rumor.

"Suzanne and I had a one-time thing. Nothing more." Rick wanted the fact to be known out loud and not just swim around in his head that was oddly empty. No cheering squad nor voting panel.

"Are you trying to convince yourself or me?"

"I am making sure you and I are on the same page. Do you have a problem with that?" Ricks tone was brusque.

Michonne was looking at the side of his face once he turned his attention to the highway full of cars going in the same direction but various speeds based on how quickly they wanted to arrive at a destination different from theirs. She could see his agitation. He was annoyed.

She felt her self-becoming more and more detached from the situation of being in the car with this man that was trying to convince himself that he only wanted, Suzanne the one time when it was a lie. She was sure of it though she had no proof.

"I don't have a problem, Rick," Michonne responded. She was becoming hopelessly despondent.

To Michonne, Rick was a liar trying to convince himself that his lie had some thread of truth to it. That character flaw was his issue, not hers or so she thought at the time.

"I think it's only fair that it is always you. You and Me. Michonne and Rick. Rick and Michonne." Rick spoke again.

The way he spoke caused Michonne to blink in rapid succession. She listened as Rick began to set the rules. She was taking note and was now genuinely interested in what he had to say.

"I have Sinclaire under control," Rick revealed.

"How do you know?"

"Because I don't feel him. I get headaches when he is about to take over or at least that is how I associate it. A smell. The odor that I can't really describe other than silver or metallic taste in my mouth."

"Yeah?" Michonne was fascinated.

"I hate when it happens because it could be days, weeks or months before I am me again or I can actively take control of things."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yes." Rick reaffirmed.

"What makes you and Sinclaire different?"

"Sinclaire would try to find a place right now off the next exit to have sex with you."

"But, I am not Suzanne."

"He knows how to get Suzanne to move you out of the way or..." Rick trailed off.

He knew what Sinclaire had told him about Michonne. He said to show her or attempt to show her his penis, and if she runs, it is not Suzanne. Rick wasn't about to tell Michonne and resorted to lying.

"What?" Michonne wanted to know what it was that would complete the sentence.

"I don't remember."

"You are a lousy liar."

"I don't remember."

"Mmm."

"What is Mmm?"

"Just that or take it as emphasizing that you are a lousy liar and you haven't convinced me otherwise."

"Sinclaire is the liar."

"Are you Sinclaire right now?"

"No."

"Then you are the Liar."

"Sometimes when people don't remember something it means just that, Michonne. They don't remember. You can't force a memory. Sometimes it just comes, and sometimes it never happens, or you just don't have the memory."

The simpleton talk. She hated it, but she hated liars more.

"You and Sinclaire are one and the same."

"You and Suzanne are-"

"Not the same. Not the same. If you so much as say we are I will take that steering wheel and run us off the road."

"Suicidal."

"Deathwish." Michonne provoked.

"Do you listen to music? I think we should play something that will soothe the savage beast-"

Michonne took her thumb and middle finger and flicked his temple.

"Ouch."

"Making sure you understand something about me. I am not Suzanne."

"That hurt."

"I don't do love taps either. You are a grown man, and if you are smart, you will take note."

"Note what?"

"That Suzanne and I aren't the same. I don't appreciate that Suzanne would talk to Sinclaire about me as if I couldn't hear her. She thinks I am the reason that you didn't stay around and if I think about it long enough, she is right."

Michonne didn't like white men, and after the last pregnancy with the twins, she had to kill off Suzanna in hopes to make it all end.

"There are too many kids. Too many."

"I agree with that."

"It has to stop."

"The twins have the largest age gap," Rick noted the success.

"I was vigilant."

"You have control over Suzanne?"

"I strangled her. She's back, and I will stomp her if she thinks because you are back again that it means sexy time. I will kill you, Rick if you come near her or me." Michonne threatened.

"Who did I just make the agreement with that it is only going to be you and me? Rick and Michonne? Michonne and Rick? I don't want to sleep with you Michonne. I don't want to have sex with you. I don't see you like that if that helps."

His words stung and it caused Michonne to feel a certain way about his honesty.

Michonne had heard the whispers about the young guy around the age of 21 that wore dusty dreads and drove a tiny sports car through town with a friend always with him blasting Bob Marley music. He was being seen by the very famous shrink Dr. Deanna. Dr. Deanna's popularity was growing, and at the time the doctor lived on the outskirts of town before moving to New York.

He would come to Herschel's Market for Big Kats. Michonne was only 17 years old. Her birthday was within the following week. Her graduation was the week after. She was the cashier then as she was still to this day.

"He wants to know if you will go out with him." Shane stood in Michonne's check out line while Rick pretended to look for more Big Kats down in the candy aisle.

"What for?"

"He wants to get to know you."

"What for?"

"Do you like white guys?" Shane asked. He wanted to make sure he wasn't wasting his time on his friend's behalf on a girl that may not be into interracial dating.

"What?" Michonne couldn't believe what was being asked of her.

"He saw you, or he knows, well I know too that you go to see, Dr. Deanna and, well he kinda likes the idea that you both suffer from the same thing. Plus he loves black girls. It's his preference. His name is Sinclaire. We followed you. That's how we know that you work here. We know what time you get off from work, and my friend wants to hang around-"

Michonne fainted. The idea of white stalkers following her was too much. She was revived some moments later, and there emerged Suzanne.

* * *

A/N: Reasons for delay...

I've been trying to clean up From My Lips to your Ears and only made it to Spain chapter. I have like so many chapters to go to make it better written (Not well written) lol. I am also trying to read a very popular writer story about our favorite two character from the Walking Dead. So basically I am multitasking.

Regarding this story:

I can't believe this story has come from me. I marvel at this scenario coming from my fingertips. I hope those who continue to read find enjoyment! Thank you.


	18. Chapter 18

Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them."  
― **James Baldwin**

* * *

"Do you remember our Daddy?"

"A little. I think." Carlton admitted.

He searched his mind for his father. All he found were hands always on his Mama. Hands that always touched her face, her back and her behind. Always the sound of laughter. He remembers a smaller table that his Daddy sat at not happy about breakfast or supper that Mama prepared. Carlton couldn't recall his face. Just his Daddy's hands and his hair. The hands that would ruffle his hair, pick him up when he cried, _'Quiet now son. I'm here. I'm here'_.

"Do you think he is white?"

"Yep."

Ghost tossed a stone across the dirt road as they waited for their Mama to come home from California. They both shared the upturned bucket as a seat. Not a car in sight. The second stone she was finally able to make it land on the other side without it bouncing or rolling to get there. A good throw.

The other side of the road there was nothing but fields and trees lined up along the route. It would take a pleasant ten-minute walk going towards the gas station to see maybe four more homes, and only one was just as big as the one they lived in. Old plantation style that had strong bones hidden by the amount of weather and the elements in which made it appear uninhabitable.

Ghost thought about the confirmation of their Daddy being white. Down deep it made no difference. She had asked Carlton about it 50 times, and each time he said their Daddy was white. It was no different in how she asked or his response to her question. For her, it was odd that Granny and Uncle Charlie said their Daddy was in jail. A daddy that she never met nor any of her siblings but he was a black man that their Mama went to high school with before he dropped out and thought prison life was better.

"Do you think our Mama is going to have our Daddy when she comes?"

"I hope so."

"Me, too." Ghost agreed.

"Mama said we have to bring our Daddy back gradual. She said she is going to bring him back like he is in disguise."

"Do you think the mailman could be in disguise? He could be our Daddy. He is a white man."

"Mailman Joe is not our Daddy. Our Daddy is going to be with Mama when she get's back here from California. Our Daddy ran off to California and Mama says she is going to bring his ass back here."

"Oooh. You said a Bad word, Carlton."

"You going to tell on me or something?"

"I'm not going to tell like Abigail. Abigail and Billie Joe would tell Granny that you are mocking grown folks."

"I'm tired of Granny."

Carlton picked up a stone from the gravel dirt road and tossed it trying to hit the tree that he decided would be a good target.

"Me too."

"I only like Uncle Charlie."

"Me too."

"I don't like Uncle Charlie when he makes me do Chores though."

"Well, do you think our Daddy is going to take our chores away?"

"Not if he is a good daddy like Uncle Charlie talks about. I do know he will take morning oatmeal away. He doesn't like oatmeal. He doesn't like beans and cornbread either for supper. I remember that about our Daddy."

"Do you think we will get some eggs and bacon?"

"Pancakes and sausage."

"Now you two knows you ain't supposed to be down here by the road. If your Mama saw it, she would have us held hostage with her make-believe. Now come on. Come on from the road."

Uncle Charlie stood holding on to his straw hat and one thumb on the strap of his overalls.

"We waiting for her, Uncle Charlie."

"She called from the gas station and said she was close. She told Granny."

"Don't you two know I was at the table when it was told to you or do you believe I wasn't listening? Now come on up to the house. We got a world of chores to get done and if it get's cold as they say that it will in the paper, we need to make sure we have enough wood stored away for winter."

"Uncle Charlie it is July."

"And you don't want to prepare?"

Carlton let out a long drawn out sigh as he stood up from the bucket. He had his sister Ghost dropping the rest of the rocks she collected on to the ground as she too stood to follow Uncle Charlie back to the house.

"Bring the bucket with you. We don't want anyone getting any ideas that this is a place to rest before coming up to the house trying to take my land."

Ghost was going to turn the bucket upright but Uncle Charlie, stopped her, "No girl child. Get that bucket from your sister, Boy."

"I can carry it, Uncle Charlie."

"Then what lesson would your brother have learned. Now get that bucket boy we got things to do. Cutting wood for one. We got to split to split it."

Carlton breathed deep. His sister handed him the bucket, and they followed Uncle Charlie towards the house that was about two football fields away from the road, hidden by lots of trees. More trees that were across the unpaved road.

"Carlton says that our Daddy doesn't like oatmeal." Ghost began her chatter walking along with Uncle Charlie and taking his hand.

The act was never lost on Uncle Charlie. The kids, especially Ghost had no qualms about seeking a hand to hold. He never recalled holding any of his own children's hands, but he wasn't around often for the need or desire to arise he speculated.

Carlton was moping behind allowing the bucket to drag on the ground. Uncle Charlie stopped to look behind him until Carlton caught up and without warning or thought took his other hand. Yes, indeed. The old man wasn't too old or senile that the act was special to him. Their Mama does the same, when her mind was more, Michonne.

"Carlton says our Daddy doesn't like Beans and cornbread either."

"Then what will we eat?" Uncle Charlie asked. He had proceeded with the two kids on either side of him towards the house.

"Hopefully, Mcdonald's."

"Nuggets!"

"Big Mac!"

"We won't have to share."

"You one child that wants his own." Uncle Charlie remarked. "I thought we could probably get some chickens, a rooster, a couple of pigs, maybe a cow or two with that blessing money. Maybe that will give us the eggs and bacon we would like to have every now and again. If I had some knowledge about sugar cane, I would try and plant some here and won't have to buy sugar from the stores. Have our own supply."

"You want to start a farm again?"

"I say we have the money to try. Granny says the amount of money to feed you buggers will cost me nearly what use to take a year to earn back in my day. I think I would like to go to this Herschel Market to see for myself before I just hand out money."

"We going to get the van fix, Uncle Charlie? We get the van fix we can go into town more often, and this time you come along."

"Got to make sure someone stays here to not have anyone take my land. They just waiting for me to take a trip down the road so can stake claim to what is rightfully mine. I have papers to prove it. I do. Anyone ask you about it you tell them what I said."

"You would come into town, Uncle Charlie?"

"If Granny stays put, I will go into town once the van is running. I think I would like to see things for myself."

"Probably get to go to church." Ghost continued to imagine a running vehicle meant more than just staying put at the house.

"I hate church." Carlton declared.

"You ain't never been to church, boy! How can you hate it, so?"

"There is no God."

Uncle Charlie stopped to look at Carlton.

"Oooh, Granny is going to be real mad hearing you say that Carlton." Ghost covered her mouth after saying what she said.

"What you going to do, tell her?" Uncle Charlie asked Ghost.

"If Abigail or Billie Joe were here they would tell." Ghost informed.

"Well Thank Santa Claus that Abigail and Billie Joe ain't here." Uncle Charlie shook his head before giving his attention back to Carlton. "Why do you think the way you do?" Uncle Charlie asked the young boy with eyes appearing bluer.

"If there were a God, he wouldn't make kids have to wait and wait for a Daddy to come back." Carlton divulged his reason why he didn't believe.

"I wouldn't blame that on God, Boy. Blame that on man. Blame that on the white man not allowing a man the chance of raising his sons and daughters due to lengthy prison sentences that ain't right if you didn't kill somebody. I say, blame it on the white man that wants you to believe in Santa, the Tooth fairy, and the Boogey man. It is man's ploy to keep you distracted about the missing Daddy who should be the one that provides gifts, money, and protection."

Carlton was considering what Uncle Charlie was saying, "We have to blame the white man, even if our Daddy is white?"

"Boy, your Daddy-"

"I'm not talking about the pretend Daddy. Our real Daddy is white. What is his excuse?"

Uncle Charlie wasn't one to ignore the obvious-Mike wasn't their Daddy, but he was one to overlook a glaring flaw in his logic. A white Daddy was a much more tricky situation especially if the Daddy was who he thought or could potentially be just as Crazy as their Mama. How do you explain to very healthy and well-protected children that both parents are out to lunch but back as someone completely different? All Uncle Charlie could do was inhale and exhale as he pushed forward for them to continue walking.

"Let me think on it some. I will hope to have an answer for you by dinner time, Boy."

"I would like to go to church. I would want to go to a real school."

Ghost changed the subject slightly. She loved the focus to be on her and her thoughts, dreams and asking things in retrospect.

"Mama is too afraid for it. She wants us homeschooled." Carlton answered looking across from his Uncle Charlie to his sister Ghost.

"What do you think our Daddy is going to say about it?" Ghost asked her brother while Uncle Charlie listened with their hands clasped in his.

"He will most likely listen to what Mama says." Carlton offered an answer that came from a place that he witnessed himself even though the memory was brief.

"And you are right on the money." Uncle Charlie said to Carlton with a smile.

If it is Michonne, any Daddy will surely listen, or he will be gone by morning, Uncle Charlie thought only to himself.

"About church or school?" Ghost needed clarification.

"Both."

"Not true. A good Daddy that wants to go to church with the mother by his side is a sight to behold. The child in attendance is a good thing. If you have a Daddy like that, I say you struck pure gold. A good Daddy, a good safe church, and family. I say that is better than the Cosby show."

"How so, Uncle Charlie?"

"Never seen a black doctor and black wife a lawyer growing up as a kid. If they had added the family going to church, I would say I lived to have seen everything. So different from my days, I tell you. We would much rather play marbles up under that there porch up yonder than try and get any book learning. We negroes didn't see the bigger picture like it is clear as day for you now. Who would have thought I would be alive to see a black president of the United States? Yes, indeed. I've seen everything for true now."

Carlton countered the idea of going to church, "Makes no sense to go when we have Granny and her Sermons."

"We went to church only that one time. Remember Carlton. Remember everyone telling Abigail and Billie Joe how pretty they are? Abigail and Billie Joe would go to church."

"Abigail and Billie Joe likes to be called pretty. Only reason."

Uncle Charlie thought it was amazing the kids didn't remember, or they didn't make any mention of their Mama finding out and caused such a ruckus that Granny said, never again. It was a stressful time, and Uncle Charlie was too old to handle the enormity of pain continually being drudged up, aired and never entirely dry. The former pastor Ezekiel never came back after that day. Yes, indeed. The new pastor name was Gabriel. The remaining members renamed the place of worship Church Of Trinity and Christ. Yes. The only thing that stopped Michonne from burning it down that fateful afternoon was that the very next day when she came back the pastor was gone and the name was changed on the sign. Yes, Indeed.

Without much thought, Uncle Charlie began to try and explain in a way that a child wouldn't necessarily understand, a nugget of truth and a battle for young girls in general that don't know any better.

"I think that is why your Granny only goes once a month. She's careful like that. Granny is cautious, and you can't fault her for it even though years ago she didn't know any better. Can't hold your Granny to same standards as the world you live in today. It ain't fair to do it, but your Mama has things to work out still to this day about it. But your Granny understands that no girl child should have their mouth open so wide. The devil is in the church luring too."

That is what Uncle Charlie offered to the bewildered children.


	19. Chapter 19

"All I have is me, myself and I and we are all getting really tired of each other."  
 **― Carl White**

* * *

"I think I see them."

"You do Uncle Charlie?" Carlton questioned. He stopped chopping the wood.

"I still have an eagle eye to watch vultures thinking they can come to take my land driving fancy automobiles." Uncle Charlie glanced at the boy who shielded his eyes from the sun. Both of their attention was on the road that was some distance away.

Uncle Charlie walked closer to the porch of his home that he had lived in since he was a child himself to yell a message to Granny or anyone that was close enough to the window to hear him shouting.

"I didn't say stop chopping. Chop the wood son. You want to be warm on a cold night, don't you?"

"Yes, Uncle Charlie," Carlton replied wondering who was in the shiny new car speeding up the road to the house. He made no move to lift the ax that hung down by his bare feet.

"Granny, get the shotgun ready!" Uncle Charlie shouted from the outside where his voice carried through the open window where Granny was hollering out instructions to the children on chores to have done before she has them all fetch their own switch she was ready to use on their behinds.

The closer the car approached brought his sister Ghost and the rest of his siblings running out of the house. They stood on the porch as did Granny eventually with the shotgun. The kids were eager to see if the gun was going to really get used and if today was going to be the day. They didn't recognize the car. No one for miles around had a new car. Plus a car wasn't a choice for most when a truck was more practical.

The car finally pulled up and stopped. Carlton could see the occupants since he stood the closest to where it came to a halt. He noticed the driver since he was standing on the driver side. The man on the inside looked directly at him, and his heart dropped in his stomach if he were asked where it went, that was where his heart sank to before it began to race in his chest. The eyes that peered back at him looked just like his eyes from what he could see and from what he could vaguely remember.

Dad? Carlton questioned himself. He didn't ask it aloud.

There was a lot of talking going on in the car and Uncle Charlie raised his hand for Granny to know she could put the gun down. Uncle Charlie could see that it was Michonne who may have hitched a ride home.

"Let's get something straight, right here and now, Michonne."

Rick was stressed out. He was nervous and he was sure he was going to black the fuck out if he couldn't get the woman who sat in the passenger seat to see things his way. This was too much, A plantation out in the middle of nowhere, black people, kids on the porch dressed poorly with an old black woman holding a shot gun aimed at him, the driver. This was going to be months to several years before he resurfaced as Rick again. This was going to be catastrophic on so many levels. He may never see Lori again.

Michonne gave him a steely glare. She was fuming.

"I am their Uncle or if you want cousin. Cousin of their real Daddy." Rick suggested.

"If you so much as get out of this car lying, it is for you to do. I am going to tell you the truth. True as these 7 kids being your blood. You fix your mouth to lie, I promise you I will fix my hand to pick up a stone or that log that has been chopped right there and hit you upside your head. I will knock-you-out."

The car was in park. Rick didn't break eye contact. The engine was still running, and they had an audience standing on the white dilapidated wraparound porch and the eyes staring in on his driver side. Rick and Michonne were at a stalemate.

Rick considered Michonne's verbal threat. He was positive they would have a domestic dispute between them because he had the plan concocted in his mind 30 minutes before arriving at the home. A home that had seen better days, many years ago if not a century ago.

From what he could see of the kids and it wasn't much based on the distance in which he sat in the car, the kids were possibly Sinclaires. He wasn't for sure, but it could have been possible with the looks of the blonde haired girl and the boy that stood on the outside of his door less than 6ft away with the old man that Rick figured was Uncle Charley. Uncle Charley looked every bit like Morgan Freedman.

Yes, it was possible due to their complexion and variation of hair texture, but he had Michonne tell him to never mind Andre because black people can produce the same effects because of Indian lineage. With that logic, then maybe none of the kids were Sinclaire's and belonged to Mike.

Mike. That name for whatever reason had his blood on a slow boil. No reason for feeling it but he felt it in his chest, a tightness that was akin to jealousy. He figured that Sinclaire was close to wanting to take over, but he refused him. This was going to be just him and Michonne as agreed earlier on the trip from the Georgia ATL to her home that smacks dab in the country surrounded by nowhere and the how the fuck did I get stuck here.

If he had let Sinclaire lose like he wanted an hour and a half back at the rest stop, he would have had begged Michonne to let Suzanne out to play so they could have sex with his seat pushed back as far as it could go. All that sex talk woke up Sinclaire and he didn't care if it was Michonne and not Suzanne. The idea of a two for one had Sinclaire going bananas to be set free. This situation that was occurring then and there was different, and Rick didn't want Sinclaire probably making a situation worse since bodily harm has officially been introduced.

"Is this what we are going to do, threaten physical violence? Kids around and everything?" Rick questioned Michonne. He was critical of her inability to control her rage that could potentially get out of hand. He had only been hit twice by two women, his mother slapped him in the face when he was a teen and Lori when he told her...Rick stopped the memory from unfolding from the others of the cheering squad that began to chant what had happened. Baby Daddy. Baby Daddy.

"I know you don't know me. I understand that. I am not Suzanne. I will speak up. I will make a way. I will knock you out. That is what the kids will see. That I don't keep things bottled in. I will do as I say, I got their Daddy back here, and when he doesn't do right by them, I will take everything into consideration as a tool to hit him upside his head because a wooden spoon is a love tap." Michonne spat with an unmoving death glare.

"I can't believe this shit, woman." Rick wasn't fully aware of why he referenced her as such by calling her woman, but it felt right as it came out without more careful thought.

"Lie. I dare you." Michonne challenged.

"I feel all this pressure..." Rick was struggling not to break down.

"What the hell do you think I've been feeling every damn day that I wake up here? Here!" Michonne exclaimed.

"I am not their, Daddy. I am not." Rick refused.

Michonne was getting really fed up with the man that was becoming more tortured by the second. The longer they sat inside the car, the more he would convince himself to be just the good citizen that gave her a ride from the airport and nothing more. If she gave him a chance to come up with a story to feed the children, he would morph into a friend of a friend that knew their father. Not going to happen. Not. Going. To. Happen.

"You are the man from the Craigslist Ad. You've agreed to the 50.00 terms."

"What?"

Michonne grabbed the Key fob quicker than he could spit the question out. She exited the car, and he was left with the sound the car made when the Key Fob was no longer inside and the warning that it was missing. Ting. Ting. Ting. Ting. Ting. It was enough to get him to turn off the car and get out like Michonne thought it would. She had a strong feeling that he suffered from Misophonia.

Placing the key in her bra, she added slamming her door to emphasize the point that she was good and mad. Michonne hoped that her eyes indicated to him that she was a woman of her word. If he got out the car lying she would more than likely try and kill him. His grave marker would have the honest truth and one word, _Daddy_.

Granny stood on the porch with her shotgun pointed downward in awe of the sight. Michonne was good and mad. Slamming car doors of nice, new car that didn't belong to her, Michonne was home. _Indeed_ , Granny thought to herself.

"If Suzanne is dressing Michonne then we in a world of trouble."

The statement was said aloud, and the only one that took note was Andre who stared up at his Granny because of the insight. He had to keep his mind on the details. Details were important his Mama repeated time and time again.

"My Mama is so beautiful," Marty commented. He loved his Mama no matter which type of mama she was at the drop of a hat.

"Not with her face all screwed up like that she ain't. No, she ain't." Granny waved away a fly that was buzzing near her ear and face with her free hand.

"Mama's mad," Abigail whispered to Billie Joe.

"She sure is." Billie Joe agreed.

Rick was nervous. He'd got out of the car with his finger twitching on the side of his leg. He wasn't sure what the Craiglist Ad was about, and he knew that his passenger was serious about possibly killing him and he would be buried in the back somewhere with two sticks that made a cross and a piece of paper that would have only two words in cursive writing, _A_ _Daddy_.

Probably the only way for him to be _A_ _Daddy_. Dead and against his will. Right now, everything was against his free will.

Carlton remembered and knew almost instantly even if he was hesitant and hid slightly behind his Uncle Charlie who stepped closer.

"What we got here, Michonne?" Uncle Charlie asked the woman on the other side of the car that was coming around after slamming the car door pretty hard.

Uncle Charlie would take no introduction from the man himself. Uncle Charlie would only listen to what Michonne would tell him. It was Michonne even though she was dressed just like Suzanne. The clothing was the only way to tell the difference but for Suzanne to have Michonne in a dress? Well, there was a mystery if ever there was one for the old man who stopped his chores to take in the homecoming and the intrusion.

"We got the man from Craigslist." Michonne came around to stand where Rick stood.

Rick never felt so unsure in his whole entire life. Craigslist?

"He doesn't look like he got any working hands." Uncle Charlie responded.

From where he stood the man didn't have any callouses or any indication of labor that required the use of them. The facial hair and the way the man held focused on Michonne to speak for him, Uncle Charlie was confused.

"He's been working with his mind. Can't fault a man that is book smart you would always tell the kids and me." Michonne responded back with Uncle Charlie's sound logic.

"Booksmart? How is multiplication going to help with the water heater, the digging up of the well pump, the bad pipes, the roof and..."

"Uncle Charlie, you got him for 50.00." Michonne looked from Rick to her Uncle. "He has agreed to the terms. He is happy to have hard labor and steady labor no matter the pay because his complicated mind needs to exert from the experience."

"50?" Rick was stunned.

"50.00 and not a dime more." Uncle Charlie stated directly to the stranger that was vaguely familiar, but with the full facial hair and him being white, he wasn't sure and wasn't going to question a laborer with mental skills that need to have his hands catch up, now that a pencil wasn't required.

"What about the van, Uncle Charlie?" Carlton reminded.

"Oh. Yeah. Twenty, if you can get the van running again. Onne took the spark plugs and a few other things out of it when she was good and mad a few months back. Cause us to be stranded right here mostly."

"Onne?" Rick looked to Michonne who never acknowledge him when he did. His question wasn't rhetorical. He was hoping for a response. He got none.

Carlton couldn't hold himself back any longer. He ran to Michonne and squeezed, his arms wrapped around her waist, pressing his face into her abdomen. The other kids took it as a sign it was safe to greet their Mama who brought home with her a stranger.

"I missed you, Mama." Carlton's voice was muffled because his face was pressed into her.

Rick glanced at the interaction. He had almost braced himself just in case the boy would run towards him. He swallowed relief and something else that he couldn't name only then.

Rick stood back a couple of steps to take a good look at the oldest of the kids. He glanced at them all that began to leave the porch as if an announcement was made for them to do so. There was a lot of them. A lot

Michonne instinctively ran her hands over Carlton's head and patted his shoulders as she continued with setting Uncle Charlie concerns to rest. The other kids were surrounding her and getting in where they fit in to touch and love on their Mama.

"He will tend to that when we no longer have a need for this vehicle."

Michonne motioned to the rental behind her. It was a car that she liked plenty and she had the key in her bra to ensure they had him for a while. Captive.

One by one she was being attacked by the kids from all angles. Arms everywhere wanting to hug her tight. She made no difference in her affections to each and every one of them other than putting Knight on her hip and holding Gladys hand. She was headed to the house but not before taking the key out of her bra to unlock the trunk that lifted for Rick to get their suitcases.

Rick stood back a couple of steps to take a good look at the kids. There was a lot of them. A lot.

"What's his name, Michonne?" Uncle Charlie shouted amongst the ruckus.

"Richard."


	20. Chapter 20

"Dear Juliet. I could relate to her pain. Black misery painted on a blood red heart. Death would be more bearable than life without Romeo."  
 **― Marilyn Grey, The Life I Now Live **

* * *

Rick wasn't sure what to do. The open trunk was every indication what Michonne wanted from him or at least what she wanted him to do.

"Do I know you, son?" Uncle Charlie asked. He was still standing about 5ft away from the stranger. The ruckus had quieted because it followed Michonne inside the house. It was just Uncle Charlie and Rick standing outside by the car.

Uncle Charlie was trying to be sly with his suspicions.

"I don't think you do."

Rick gave the old man a quick glance before walking over to the back of the car. Rick was honest with what he thought because he never had in his life been on the property or anywhere else to have possibly met.

"Good. Best way to keep things. Cause Granny, well, she more than likely skin you alive if she gets any inkling that you here to do more than fixing the things that need fixin. And Michonne, she may just be beyond repair."

"I figured that much a hundred miles from here." Rick pulled out the suitcases and closed the trunk.

"Well, I would think that it would have been obvious the moment that you offered anything to her, especially a ride. She has a terrible fear of white men." Uncle Charlie revealed to Rick.

Uncle Charlie was curious about how the ride offer occurred and if Michonne fainted or not. Those fainting spells was a clear indication that others were looming about to cause possible chaos for the rest of the family. They still couldn't really get comfortable with Suzanne never leaving and trying to keep it all a secret from Michonne who thought she was dead and that he and Granny helped bury her in the backyard.

"Fear or a preference?" Rick paused for clarification.

"What did you get when you offered her a ride?"

"I would like to think she is partial. Especially with a free ride all the way in the opposite direction of where I was intended to travel. I even got out the car against my better judgment and then finding out I will be working like a slave around here, I would say Michonne is more than partial now."

"A slave and slave labor are two different things. I hope you know the difference before you continue to talk crazy." Uncle Charlie gave the man a stern look.

Rick began to turn beet red. He was embarrassed but wasn't entirely for sure why exactly. He set the suitcase down on the ground, his two and the one that belonged to Michonne.

"She has my keys."

Rick placed more weight on one leg than the other.

"Sounds like being a Slave is the least of your problems." Uncle Charlie surmised with his thumb in between the strap of his denim overalls.

"How far is it to town?"

"If you get to the Gas Station, you have about 10 miles more to go. What are you in need of that you assume isn't here?"

"Freedom." Rick grabbed the luggage. "Do I just go on inside?"

Uncle Charlie flashed his attention towards the porch of the house where Michonne was waiting with the screen door open. "She's holding the door."

* * *

Later that evening right before supper, Uncle Charlie sat on the porch in his usual spot admiring the automobile that remained parked. B.M.W. 5 series. Not a Ford or GM vehicle but a B.M.W.

Granny opened the screen to inform, Uncle Charlie it was just about suppertime. Her gaze went over to the car parked in front of the house the dust and the night trying to conceal the shine on the body of the car but the beauty was still visible.

"What kind is it Uncle Charlie?"

"B.M.W is what Boy Child said it is. Don't know a soul with one around our parts. Looks like it cost more than a couple a hundred."

"Glad we got Michonne to go on the Price is Right. You and Suzanne don't seem to know the price of nothing. Couple of hundred dollars. Mmm. More than that Uncle Charlie. More than that."

"Be true?"

"I'm sure. I'm sure it is."

"I shooed the kids away from it. Even in this light it is beauty. Remind me of old Betsy."

"The old horse or the Buick?"

"Good times. Good times."

"You drinking that stuff already, Uncle Charlie."

"You don't need to worry bout me. Worry about making things right. That should be somewhere in your bible, Granny."

"Asking forgiveness?"

"You and Michonne need to work through it,Granny."

"I ain't working through, shit. I'm tired of Michonne and her smart mouth. I plan to go right back to my own place. I am not going to have her constantly disrespecting me."

"You ain't going nowhere. Don't get me wrong I wish you would because this is my house. Yours is about _200_ yards in the back."

"Then who's going to cook and take care of you and the kids while Michonne is working?"

"Reason why you insist on being here. Scared we will find a way to still breathe and live without you. That is for true."

"Only reason, I ain't chased him up out here is because this is your house. If it were mine, it wouldn't be no stranger under my roof."

"Got to start somehow before a person can become familiar. Plus the labor is needed, and as long he doesn't cause no harm, I say we will be okay."

"Since when you take chances?"

"I trust, Michonne knows what she doing." Uncle Charlie was confident that the man inside was more than the Craiglist. He overheard them interacting on his way to the bathroom to wash up from tinkering around with this and that all day. He didn't tell Granny of his suspicion.

"She got the kids thinking this man is their Daddy."

"The kids still dreaming. Leave them be unless they start pestering the man and it ain't what he wants."

"Michonne can't keep blaming me when she ain't learned shit!"

"Well, you need to listen instead of finding excuses for this and that. Have you tried to do it that way?"

"I can't listen to it."

"Well, that may be what she needs. You to just listen."

"Back in my day, we got over things. It happened to me. It happened to almost every girl child."

"Not her girl child. Not on my watch. No boy child either."

"Well, we don't know. She got a stranger in the house. Not smart. Not smart at all."

"What did she say about it?"

"She told me very _rich_ coming from me."

Uncle Charlie shook his head. He had run out of ideas, and the only one that hasn't been practiced was the listening part. Granny wasn't of the mind to listen to the grievance that was coming from Michonne from a very hurt place. A place that makes a person ashamed of their ways and how ignorant they were to put the word of any man before the word of an innocent.

One thing about Uncle Charlie he never was the type of man to hurt children. He never understood it and didn't try to relate to the mind of any man that could entertain it.

All through his life, he was chasing women around his own age, and he absolutely loved the way older ones too. To think a child wasn't safe around a man he found untrue because he was that such man. He didn't want to believe there weren't any other men like him. The way the news portrayed everything it was a frightening prospect if he was a dying breed, yes indeed. A terrifying prospect, indeed.

"I don't think you have to worry about that man inside, Granny. He insists that he is nothing but a slave."

"Well, where did she find that silly, man?" Granny wondered if Uncle Charlie was privy to more details than what he was letting on.

Uncle Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "All I know is that I can't wait to put him to work come sun up. He is going to earn every nickel by the time he is done. Got a lot of work and it's good that Carlton has some help. Boy child can't do it all. The funny thing is that Boy child never considered _himself_ a slave." Uncle Charlie chuckled.

"Come on in here Uncle Charlie. Wash up again. Almost supper time." Granny shook her head and stepped back inside and went into the kitchen.

* * *

Somewhere in the house on the lower level a bedroom was designated for Rick to stay in. He kept his suitcase by the door in hopes of creeping out in the dark of night, but he then remembered that he didn't have the key, that it was still likey in between Michonne's breast. The lack of a key didn't deter him from planning to trying an escape at some point. Key or no Key, he was going to leave like he came no introductions and no goodbyes.

Rick was making his exit plan when he noticed the first child in the doorway of his room. Michonne was standing behind the small child that wore a smile that was tearing away a stitch from his plan. He tried to remain neutral.

"Tell him your name and how old you are. Go."

The young boy crept inside, still keeping a reasonable distance between him and the bearded man sitting at the foot of the bed that just acknowledged him by looking his way before looking at his Mama.

"Michonne-" Rick was ready to protest but was silenced when the little boy began to speak.

"My name is, Marty. I am..." He holds up his hand to express his age with some fingers. He was showing 5 fingers. His other hand was holding his wrist that displayed his inaccurate number count.

"You are five?" Rick questioned. He remembered the ages of all the children based on what Michonne or Suzanne had told him. If he didn't have a face to the name, he had the age to each name.

"Four."

"You showing me 5 fingers?"

"I'm four," Marty replied.

"Then show me four fingers. Five fingers confuses me if you aren't five years old." Rick's tone was stern.

Marty turned to look at his Mama standing in the doorway of the bedroom. She was encouraging him to continue. Marty turned to face the man who was waiting for him to count.

"One, two, three, four."

"Well done."

"Four."

"Four years old. Count for me one more time." Rick waited leaning slightly forward.

"One, two, three, four."

"Very good." Michonne encouraged Marty. "Tell him what's your most favorite thing in the world."

"My Mama!"

"Your Mama is a thing?" Rick asked curiously. He found he couldn't hide his own amusement.

Marty nodded his head.

"You sure?"

Marty turned to look at his Mama standing in the doorway before looking back at the man again. He shook his head.

"What is your Mama?"

"A person."

"That's right. She and I could have a _thing between us_ , but she would never be _a_ _thing_." Something caught Rick by surprise and it was what came out so freely if not playfully.

Marty tipped his head to the side as if understanding what was said was heavy in one ear. It made Rick smile at the youngster, and it was glaring that he was every bit of Sinclaires, son. The only difference was the year-round tan that Marty evidently wore and the hazel eyes that did actually appear green based on the light.

Michonne laughed despite herself. She was caught off guard by what Rick had said and it struck her too by surprise. The playful smile on his lips warmed her and she didn't try and fight it like she normally would. Michonne wanted to be present to see the interaction between each child and this man to make sure they had a chance to impress upon him, to connect.

"So what is your favorite _thing_ to do?" Rick asked.

"Marty. Where you at boy? Come now, Marty?" Granny was calling from the kitchen.

"Hurry, Marty. Granny is a calling." Michonne stepped aside for Marty to exit.

Marty took off running but came back quickly to wave at the man and answer the question, "Running." He ran back in the direction of the kitchen.

"He is fast." Rick commented with a chuckle.

"We have to tell him all the time to stop running around here."

"He's handsome boy, Michonne."

"You ready?" Michonne asked.

"Who's next?" Rick tensed slightly.

"Next?"

"7 more to go."

"6 more." Michonne corrected. "And no. It's supper time. Marty wanted to meet you. He was going to drive me crazy if he didn't meet you. He doesn't seem to understand gradual."

"Just Marty?"

"Just Marty."

"Why is that?"'

"The babies are scared of you, and the rest of them understand gradual."

Rick had tons of nerves, and apprehension. He was still a very shy man in many aspects. The need to retreat wasn't an option. He longed for a headache, he sniff for the scent of silver or metallic. Nothing. He was going to decline.

"I will pass on supper."

"You will not."

"I will too."

"Rick."

"Michonne."

Michonne had her hands behind her back. Rick thought possible weapon. She stepped to him quickly inside the room, coming right for him. It caused Rick to stand on his feet. He saw her hand coming up to him, and he caught her wrist. Her hand was empty.

"What you about to do, woman?"

"Pinch you."

"You pinch me. I am going to pinch you back." Rick threatened.

There was something about this woman standing so close that terrified Rick. She was a firecracker, and yet he felt like he was the one that would willingly snap crackle and pop if he didn't tamp down the sudden need to take that flower dress off and throw her on the bed and have his way with her.

He searched her face. The very look that he had come to memorize and equate to the most beautiful, the craziest. Every single thing about her was endearing and the moment came upon him so suddenly, and without warning, before he could speak to it, he wasn't himself. He was Sinclaire.

"We got to make this work." Sinclaire was afraid of Rick being overly stimulated by the interaction with the children and with Michonne.

"If you told me once you told me a hundred times. What do you think I'm doing. I am quiet. I don't say much."

"You know what that dress does to me, woman."

Sinclair loved Suzanne in a dress. Especially the one that she had on. She wasn't playing fair, trying to lure him out when it wasn't the plan.

"I know. She's pissed off about it but she still wearing it. It must says _something_. _Be_ something to it. She hasn't changed her clothes."

"Well, my buddy Rick doesn't like it. He has no taste for things very girly like. Not like I do. You are trying to keep him around to see things our way. Not make him create a list of grievances about you and give it to the committee. He's already plotting how to escape. You need to behave 100%. Can you do that, woman?"

"Well, my sister, Michonne isn't too fond of Rick. She doesn't like her men white if she likes them any at all. Not like I do. If you want him to be kept around you got to get him to see things our way. She has grievances that have nothing to do with him, and she doesn't need a committee to make executive decisions. IF he tries to leave she will try to kill him. You need to make him understand this is forever or death. Can you do that, Sinclaire?"

He touched the side of her face with his free hand and watched her close her eyes to his touch.

"It's hard, Sinclaire. I feel like the more I am inside of her, the more I start becoming part of her. I can't remain me and separate for long with out dying off like a few others have done. I'm scared to do it. I understand that I may have to, to make her whole and aware."

Sinclaire searched her eyes that were sincere regarding her plight which was similar to his. He let her wrist go slowly, and they clasped their fingers together.

"This _may_ be suicide, but I am willing, Suzanne. I am tired of being chased away from you. I am tired of not helping you take care of my kids when you need me to be there for you and them. I am tired of waking up to that woman in California. I will willing die to be with you if that is what I need to do."

"Were you there a couple of times at least." Suzanne smiled that school girl smile that he loved. Shy. She was referring to the hotel in Chicago.

"How many times did you feel good? The real feel good?"

"Twice."

"That's how many times I was able to take over. Rick hasn't had sex in awhile. That Lori is God Awful in bed."

"You slept with her, Sinclaire?" Suzanne tensed slightly.

"I have no desire, woman. My desire is right here. My desire is right here trying to get me to love her up right now while dinner is being served."

"He's not coming," Suzanne informed Sinclaire about Rick's refusal to come to supper.

"Just tell him not to be rude. That will get him up. He doesn't want to come off rude and plus, I think he would just about do anything that mean ass Michonne says anyway because he can't help himself. He's confused about it and doing a lot of ruminating. The cheering squad knows more than me on that Michonne and Rick mess than I do. I only have eyes for you."

"Please kiss me before you leave. Please. I missed you so much it hurts."

It didn't take any prodding or begging for Sinclaire to want intimacy from the woman he would eagerly re-populate the earth with because he was ready to kiss her because he missed her just the same. Terrible thought to be without her.

Michonne opened her eyes to find Rick's tongue in her mouth at the same time he found hers in his.

"Ouch! God damn it Michonne!"

Michonne had just punched him and shoved him back so hard he fell upon the bed.

"Supper time. Don't be rude about it. Now come on!"

Rick was stunned on so many levels. He was almost paralyzed with indecisiveness and if he was going to be murdered since he had told Michonne in the car to shoot him dead if he ever tried anything, she was possibly leading him to his death.

"Supper time. Now come on." Michonne paused in the doorway waiting for him to get up.


	21. Chapter 21

"To conceal anything from those to whom I am attached, is not in my nature. I can never close my lips where I have opened my heart."  
 **― Charles Dickens **

* * *

The silence was only for a moment. Watching the bearded white man take his seat at the table with Michonne by his side had everyone mute including Granny.

Granny didn't have a say in things because it wasn't her house and if Uncle Charlie wasn't upset by these turn of events, she wasn't going to be either. She was going to make sure the children were safe. That was her priority. That was the decision Granny made right then and there. She was going to stay in the home to make sure the kids were safe.

Dinner was served, piping hot! Pinto Beans with ham hocks and cornbread. Not a piece of fried chicken in sight.

Rick observed what was before him, and he had no earthly idea how he was going to eat without appearing rude. The tall glass of water was very appetizing in comparison.

He noticed that all of the kid's eyes were on him. He hadn't officially met them other than Marty who sat on the other side of him, happy as a clam and curious like the others.

For a moment, Rick wondered if he was being poisoned and the children knew about it. Well, it might as _well_ have been poison-because he did not like what he considered bean soup and cornbread. He would much rather have chili but he wasn't a fan of that dish either because he did not like _beans_. Beans...

Rick noticed the oldest child that had to have been Carlton was wearing a smirk but it quickly vanished upon Rick's inspection.

Carlton had quickly glanced away to his very own plate of the same inedible dish being served to everyone without choice.

"Well, we will have our new member say grace over the food. Only right don't you think, Granny." Uncle Charlie suggested.

Uncle Charlie nodded towards Granny who was surprised but she had no qualms that she could think of to be against it.

"I would say so," Granny agreed. "Let us all join hands."

Rick was baffled. He was put on the spot. Michonne gave him a warning look, and Marty was reaching for his right hand. He was being overly stimulated. The touch from the woman on his left and a child on his right. All eyes closed but _his_ as he searched for help on blessing food that he wasn't even going to _pretend_ to taste. He said the first thing that came to mind.

"Dear God please bless this food and all people who seek freedom. Amen?" Rick watched every eye fly open in surprise. He wasn't sure if what he said was acceptable but it was all that he had and if there was a God he would hope his plight was heard and his exit was like the parting of the red sea.

"Amen."

"Lord have mercy. I wonder who is seeking freedom? The only way to be truly free is through Jesus Christ our Savior." Granny remarked.

"Where are these unfree people you speak of? Not counting the prisons. Tell us who's freedom are we praying for?" Uncle Charlie was curious.

Rick glanced at Michonne and then back at his plate.

"He thinks he's trapped," Michonne spoke for him. Her tone had no sympathy.

"I would say you trapped yourself." Uncle Charlie began to eat. "At some point, you have to take responsibility for what you do with the hand that was dealt. Even when you are unaware."

"You have any children, Richard?"

"N-mph." Rick eyed the woman who pinched his side. He was about to say No.

"I tell Michonne all the time that she has to be careful with men off the street coming up around here. Have to be careful. I am glad that she said it was very _Rich_ coming from me. Hopefully, she will learn from old people mistakes is what I say."

"I will be the first to tell you now," Rick was unsure what to call the old woman across the table enjoying her beans and cornbread along with the younger of the children.

Uncle Charlie gave him the name he was seeking, "Granny. We all call her Granny. Down the road and up the road she is known as Granny. At the church, she's considered a Deaconess when she _goes_."

"I so miss going to church often like I use to." Granny patted her bible.

"I will be the first to tell you, Granny, that Michonne here didn't find me off the streets. It was at the airport." Rick was determined to clarify.

"What!"

"You were at the airport, Mama?" Carlton's eyes widened along with his siblings.

"An Aeroplane, Michonne?" Uncle Charlie put his spoon down.

"Airport. No one said anything about an airplane." Rick thought his interjection with a half-truth would get Michonne to stop trying to cause pain to his waist. She was pinching him.

Rick held on to her wrist under the table.

"How did this come about?"

Everyone around the table was curious. It was a burning question for everyone.

"What come about?" Michonne trying to wriggle her wrist free from Rick's grasp. He placed her hand firmly on his thigh because he had no excess skin for her to cause him harm there.

"I saw an Ad on Craigslist. I couldn't pass it up. I mean who wouldn't want to work for 50 whole dollars with free room and board until the job is done?" Rick spoke directly to Michonne hoping he got the story straight regarding his role in the home. He thought the clarification would also wake up the kids to know he wasn't their Daddy. He was Craigslist.

"Off the damn streets." Granny shook her head. Her mind was made up of where Michonne found him, and it had Suzanne written all over it.

"Nothing like honest labor." Uncle Charlie remarked. He realized there was going to be little truth garnered from the two people at the table who were doing something to each other under the table. He too believed this had Suzanne written all over it.

* * *

Sinclaire waited. The headlights turned off made the whole area practically pitched black under the canopy of trees that overlapped above the gravel road. He was relieved when Suzanne finally appeared by the passenger door.

"I didn't think you were coming."

"Had to wait for my Granny to turn off her lights."

Suzanne tossed her duffle bag in the back seat of the convertible and Sinclaire pushed open the door for her to slide on in.

He was happy to see her. He thought he would just burst as he revved the engine, turned on his headlights and drove, drumming his hand on the top of the steering wheel for a second before daring to steal a glance her way.

"Where we going?" Suzanne asked.

"I thought we just spend time together. You are 18. You had graduated from school yesterday. I thought we just spend time."

"How much time, Sinclaire?"

"Forever?"

Suzanne couldn't help but smile. She was so happy that she thought she was going to burst. She didn't give any thought to Uncle Charlie nor Granny.

Sinclaire arrived at the fork in the road, pausing for a moment to consider which direction. He wasn't sure because nothing was planned other than being with Suzanne.

"I want _forever_ with you Suzanne. Do you want forever with me?"

Forever will always be the smell of the night air, the flicker of fireflies and the stars shining brightly, Rick realized why he always felt melancholy at dusk more than in the day time in California. He had an inkling why sitting there after 11pm on the porch stairs that leaned more to one side than the other.

"You do that a lot you know?"

"What's that?"

Rick realized then he wasn't alone on the back porch. A part of him was aware that the sounds had died down in the house. The voices and movement of those who lived inside seem to settle than cease, occasional hushed tones from the little spies had vanished.

He did not seek to interact nor did they, other than Marty who was a little too friendly when it came to a stranger, but Rick realized with hesitancy that to Marty he was Daddy.

"A million miles away."

"You don't travel a million miles away?"

"Are you aware of it when you do?" Michonne asked him.

She remembered that he had told her about the headaches and the scent when he was no longer going to be himself. Lost in thought was different and with the splintered mind it was even more unique.

"Sometimes. You?"

"In the middle. Sometimes towards the end. Never in the beginning."

Rick thought about what she said. He was surprised that she sat right next to him on the step. She had a mason jar with a liquid and from where he sat he knew water didn't smell like it would be what she was holding in both hands.

He had to take a break from her. They were too touchy feely and it was the kind that brought more pain than pleasure.

"I am being bombarded by the beginning for some reason." Rick revealed.

"Yeah?"

"Sinclaire and Suzanne. He waited for her to come out of this house. He was parked out there." Rick eyes cut through the darkness to the area that neither of them could see from the distance and because it was night.

"Was this after the graduation?"

"I can't believe he took you to my parent's house. Out of all the places to go he took you there." Rick shook his head at what was now a clearer memory. Dots were connecting faster than he could ever ask. He would have loved for it to happen years ago. Maybe he wouldn't be in a fucked up situation and eight damn kids later.

"What's hard to believe about it?" Michonne was trying to not take offense. She had gone to his home in California that he shared with his wife all under the premise of make believe. Lori was a pretty white woman in a beautiful home. Not one single child running about. Not one. He was talking and she made her mind up to listen. Listen to his version of events that led up to the clusterfuck she was left with because he could afford to run, hide while she was left seeking.

"I had just proposed to Lori a month earlier. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, but I thought being with Lori I could have a chance to have a healthy life. I wanted to blend in and move on from this place. I had already graduated college. I met Lori there. The more I became serious about my intentions, the more Sinclaire became crazed with the idea that he had a choice in the matter."

"His choice?"

"Suzanne...you."

"Me?" Michonne was caught by surprise in the revelation.

Rick wasn't sure how to continue or if he should share his memory regarding the day he met Michonne. He wanted her to know what it was like and how it felt for him. The day before Sinclaire became his dominant alter ego.

"We would go looking for you." Rick began but quickly clarified, "Shane and I. The guy you met at the airport. Him. I didn't know if I had a chance with someone like you and plus, Shane was worried that something more was wrong with me since I had no interest in the opposite sex or in sex-at all. I was a white guy with dreads and mental issues."

"White guy with dreads meets a black girl with dreads with head issues too."

"Now I am just a white guy with the same issues."

"I'm the only one consistent it seems. I still have my dreads." Michonne said as if it was an honor and achievement.

Rick fought the smile that threatened to cross his lips when he noticed Michonne doing the same. Their eyes remained cast on the bottom step or straight ahead as much as possible.

"You were sitting there. The most beautiful girl sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Deanna office. I thought I wouldn't be able to move when you glanced my way. Shane was appointed my chaperone by my Dad to make sure I went to my appointments because shit was getting out of control. I was a dread head and in love with smoking pot. I was able to pull it together to graduate college and still be a twenty-two-year-old loser according to my Dad."

"I remember seeing you. You kept looking like you wanted to talk to me. I did NOT want you to talk to me. You made my head spin. I knew if you did I would pass out."

"Fainting was your thing."

"Still is."

"Faint." Rick requested teasingly.

"You aren't a stranger anymore. You aren't demanding anything from me that I don't want to give. I realize that some time ago."

"On the plane?"

"When you kissed me."

"Kissed you?"

"It was me."

"It was you?" The confirmation did something strange to Rick's heart.

"I didn't stay long. You still had a way of scaring me, and Suzanne took over. You made me feel like I was going to melt. I never felt that before. Not with Mike either."

Rick was surprised by the level of honesty she was sharing with him. She had no idea what it had done to him in the Airport shop. He was alive in every sense of the word. Colors were brighter. His world seemed much larger and less restrictive. She gave him an idea what it would feel like to have your heart explode and have beautiful confetti everywhere when it does.

He was nervous and anxious. He was beginning to feel overly stimulated. He had no where to run and hide. His cheering squad chanted, Stay! Stay! Stay!

"Want some?"

Rick glanced again at the mason jar in her hands. He took her up on the offer and took a swig. He realized quickly, he took more than he should have of what felt like 110 percent of liquid poison.

"Damn!" Rick swallowed. He was on fire.

"I don't know how my Uncle Charlie does it."

"Where the hell does he get it from and why would he want it?" Rick handed the liquid fire back to Michonne.

"Uncle Charlie says it's better than pills. He swears that this is what has kept him alive."

"Is that what he thinks?"

"Uncle Charlie says if you don't feel the burn you are dead."


	22. Chapter 22

"No one is ever quite ready; everyone is always caught off guard. Parenthood chooses you. And you open your eyes, look at what you've got, say "Oh, my gosh," and recognize that of all the balls there ever were, this is the one you should not drop. It's not a question of choice."  
 **― Marisa de los Santos, Love Walked In**

* * *

He found himself underneath her later that night. It was after sharing a shot of her Uncle Charlie's moonshine as they sat on the back porch. They were silent as they tossed it back and he without a word walked into the house to find his room in order to rest.

It was unexpected. Michonne had told him that it would be his room where he could rest. He didn't go rummaging around, and if he had, he would have realized it was _her_ room too.

Rick was sitting on the side of the bed closest to the window. His mind was a million miles away and yet nowhere in particular. Time was escaping him as he sat watching the night. The highly toxic amount of alcohol burned through his veins and eased his mind a good deal.

A clear night with the stars shining brightly along with the full moon sitting high in the cloudless sky. Nothing but the dark silhouettes of the Red Maple, Cypress, and an old willow tree. Rick fell back on the bed, his head hitting the pillow with a deep sigh.

He had his arm covering his eyes. He didn't want to see any more of the world outside of the four walls that had him hidden if not genuinely forgotten by the people he thought he had left behind. His boots he still wore, one foot planted on the wooden floor while his ankle from the other rested on his thigh.

The bedroom door creaked slowly open to the small room. Rick didn't think to look or care that she crept quietly inside closing the door behind her. In less than a few seconds, she had his boots removed before his arm could leave his face. He watched with the help of the stars and moon.

No words were shared. He gazed up at her as he tried to ascertain what was happening. She unbuttoned her dress after removing the tiny thin belt from her waist. Rick watched her _and_ every piece of garment that fell to the floor except for her bra that concealed her breast. The sight of her caused him to sit up slowly.

Rick gave her a look, questioning what was happening as she stroked his hair away from his forehead. He allowed her touch. He didn't fight it or move away. Rick was utterly dumbstruck. These turn of events on the first night wasn't what he expected. He hadn't entertained it. Gray clouds in his mind began to dissipate. The fog started to lift slightly. His nervous energy was burning through the alcohol.

Michonne pressed his face into her bare abdomen. He hadn't rejected her advances. She hadn't entertained the idea if he had denied her what would have been her next step.

Confusion was evident on the look he gave her before his eyes drifted to her breast and then her flat stomach. He didn't plant a kiss on the spot above her navel even though he wanted too. He didn't do anything to indicate that he was okay with what she was suggesting she wanted from him. He didn't indicate that he wasn't okay with what she was insinuating.

She caressed his beard along the side of his face. She felt him shudder, his breathing became more controlled than relaxed.

She could make out his face, his eyes, including the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed anxiety and trepidation. Michonne released her nervous energy moments before coming into the room.

It had been a long time since she had been with a man. Over five years and this man was good as any. Uncle Charlie's hidden moonshine helped with her being able to continue with what she was doing.

Michonne pulled his t-shirt up over his head, and he allowed her to work his jeans off along with his underwear. He didn't protest. He just sat back bewildered. A look that he mastered.

Rick was now a hundred percent sure what Michonne wanted from him once his clothes were off. He was stunned into complete silence because he was _Rick_ and she was _Michonne_. This wasn't supposed to go down, but it was going down. This wasn't what was agreed upon or what they discussed in the car, and he had nothing at all against impromptu when she pushed him down on the bed and climbed on top.

He wasn't going to be accused of anything other than having a hard on and allowing her to ride it. He didn't touch her. He didn't kiss her. He just watched her, and she watched him until she finally came undone. It was the only sound she made, and it would be the sound he remembered from their first night as her body crashed down on top of his at the very same moment he exploded without ever having to move his hips. It was incredibly scary to have a heightened sense of feeling like this was never going to be enough and the only person he could ever want this from was her.

The only thought for Michonne, was of him inside of her. His manhood connecting with her womanhood. The girth, his length, the way it slightly curved. The feeling it produced as she couldn't help but feel how delicious the sensation was from the friction with him encased between her thighs. His breathing was becoming as labored as hers. His legs were tensing and relaxing periodically, but it was the only movement he made trying to fight to not participate.

Quickly she became wet and found a rhythm to bring her to the brink while he gripped the bedsheets on either side of him and her hand balancing with the use of his chest. Michonne slowed to only feel the electrifying heat building, causing her to go into a frenzy to capture the wave and ride it out. Ride it until she couldn't help but let go and drown in its explosive ecstasy.

* * *

Rick woke up with a jolt. He wasn't sure where he was, but it didn't take long to figure it out. He grabbed the sheet to make sure he was adequately covered. He watched a small child run out of the room, frightened, and two who remained, Marty who he was introduced to and one that had to be about the same age.

"My name is, Andre I am 5. I will be six soon." He volunteered eagerly.

Andre. The child that _wasn't_ Sinclaire's but looked just like Marty. The only difference was that Andre's hair was tighter curls and Marty was more wavy. Interesting, Rick thought. He would have guessed that Mike was a white guy but with Michonne's aversion to white men he knew it wasn't the case. Rick was also a betting man and he would wager a sizeable sum that the paternity test would show Sinclaire was the father. Then it was that salacious rumor...

"Where's your, Mama?" Rick asked the two boys for the whereabouts of Michonne.

"Mama went to work." Andre answered.

"Work?"

The two boys nodded.

"Where she work at?" Rick could not remember even though it had to have been discussed on the plane at some point.

"Grocery store and Daryl's." Andre answered.

"Daryl's?"

Something about the name was oddly familiar to Rick. The cheering squad wasn't happy about it and they gave Rick every indication that if he were to care enough he would need to make a visit.

The two boys nodded the answer to Rick's rather rhetorical question.

Rick noticed the youngest one that ran out was now peeking inside from the doorway.

"What's his name?" Rick tipped his head in the direction of the wide open door.

"Knight. He's shy."

"Shy or scared?"

"Both. We aren't. Me and Marty aren't scared. We've been waiting for you to come back."

"About that," Rick began but was cut off.

"We will be very good. We will stay out your way. We will do what you tell us."

"What have you two been doing looking at _my_ list." Rick teased.

He was caught off-guard by Andre obviously speaking for all of the children.

The two boys giggled surprised by Rick's response. There was another face peeking, and it was a young girl. Rick moved the sheet even closer to his body. Andre caught sight of who it was and ran to the door to scold his sister.

"Girls aren't allowed. Granny will get a switch herself for sure, Ghost."

"Not fair that you get to talk to him."

"He's our Daddy right now. He's not girls Daddy yet."

"Who said?"

"Carlton said it." Andre fibbed.

"Why would he say that? If he's your Daddy, then he's my Daddy too. Mama only loved one person."

"You have to wait your turn." Andre had his hands on his hip. He wasn't about to allow Ghost inside.

Rick watched the anxious children, and his heart ached in knowing he was the source of contention and excitement. They were seeking him out, and he wasn't appropriately dressed. From the bed he could see his clothes from last night were still where Michonne had dropped them. He was butt naked and stranded in a home with children that he couldn't deny parentage too. This was most disconcerting to him.

"How about you all have a discussion outside in the hall until I can get my robe and slippers. I'm going to need someone to show me where's the bathroom."

"Okay."

"Me. Me. Me." Marty began jumping up and down. He wanted to be the tour guide, and he made no move to exit. There was nothing but admiration on the boy's face.

"Marty, could you and Andre wait for me on the other side of the door until I put something on?"

Marty nodded with a grin and ran over to Andre who informed everyone that _their_ Daddy needs time. _Daddy_...

Rick had so much on his mind to process and he had hoped that he would find the keys to the rental on the dresser. He didn't find the keys and after scooping up his clothes and Michonnes from the floor he resigned in the fact that he would have to keep an eagle eye on the keys once he had his sight on Michonne again. If he had to appear that he was looking at her breast, so be it. Her breast...Rick shook his head to remove the thought. He didn't have time.

Little did Rick know that all of the children were on the outside of his bedroom conspiring on who was to make the next appearance and if he was going to come out soon or not.

Carlton had to set Andre's mind to rest that _A_ _Daddy_ was different from a perverted man from the street. It was something that Granny always talked about, warned them about, and pointed out in the news, whenever the television was on long enough to catch the going on in the world outside of their middle of nowhere location.

They all had good indication that he _was_ their _Daddy_ because he didn't eat the beans and Cornbread and Breakfast will be the nail in the coffin if he refuses to eat the almost daily oatmeal.

Rick was surprised to find the whole brood outside his door when he opened. All eyes were on him dressed in a plush white terry cloth robe and slippers with a small bag in his hand that held his grooming essentials. The youngest two ran off in the direction of the kitchen, too afraid because in their minds he was the boogeyman whether dressed or in a robe. Gladys and Knight went Poof. Rick only caught the back of their heads.

"What do we have here?" Rick eyed each child until he got an official name with a face.

"Good Morning, I'm Abigail and my sister twin."

Rick thought the term was odd, " _Sister's_ twin?"

"My name is Billie Joe, Abigail is my sister twin."

Rick scratched his brow. He gave them a long enough look to figure out what made them different and it was only two visible ways and it was by hair color and skin. Abigail's had much lighter hair color and slightly darker skin but not by much compared to Billie Joe. Their difference was slight, but he kept note. They favored more of Michonne, full lips and nose if nothing more. The rest was Sinclaire.

"Your name?"

"My name is, Ghost."

"Do you have any idea why?" Rick blinked multiple times. Surprised that the young girl referred to herself by the name that he assumed was a nickname.

Ghost shrugged. It was the only answer she had because it was the first time she become tongue tied in her young life.

"Mama has yet to put a name on her birth certificate," Carlton informed. "Says she is going to wait until _our_ Daddy gives her a name. So until then, she goes by Ghost."

"Ghost." Rick repeated.

Carlton nodded.

Rick took a long hard look at the girl with very pretty features even if her skin was almost white as snow. Whiter than his even. Lips that matched her fiery hair that sat wild on top of her head in a ponytail, a similar style to her slightly older sisters. There was a subtle mesh of Sinclaire in her eyes and nose and the jawline. Yes, she was Sinclaire's too.

"Your name?" Rick asked the oldest.

"I'm Carlton."

Rick could tell the oldest was nervous and instinctively he reached out to brush back the boy's silky hair from his face, "Carl."

It was all that Rick said, and the boy broke down in sobs before running away with Ghost going after him.

* * *

A/N: The weaving will soon begin and may make you dizzy. This will be my only readers alert.

I will say that _This_ seems to be the most linear I have ever been up until probably now or it will be less so in the next coming chapters.


	23. Chapter 23

"The trick. . .is to find the balance between the bright colors of humor and the serious issues of identity, self-loathing, and the possibility for intimacy and love when it seems no longer possible or, sadder yet, no longer necessary."  
― ** Wendy Wasserstein **

* * *

"What's going on Carl?"

"Nothing."

"Can't be nothing if you're walking far from the house." Ghost struggled to keep up with her oldest brother.

"Leave me alone Ghost."

"Mama said we have to stick together. No child is to be alone with all the snatching going on. We fight better in numbers, and we scream louder that way."

"No one is snatching us."

"You won't know that until you are snatched, Carl."

"Don't call me that. My name is Carlton. And maybe I want to be snatched. You think about that?"

No, Ghost never thought about that and just when she did think about it just then made her very own heart race.

"Ooh, Mama would be upset to hear you say that. You know that? She would be upset for two days if she heard you say that!" Ghost admonished her brother.

"That's _my_ Daddy." For Carlton it was more real and surreal and the two intertwined caused him to flee without any degree of understanding his feelings. It was all too much and too heavy.

" _Your_ Daddy now?"

"Mine!" Carlton became possessive.

"He's not _all_ of our Daddy?"

"He was mine first is what I'm saying." Carlton conceded to his sister who he was the closest to of all his siblings.

"You remember him?" Ghost asked the same question that she would always ask and Carlton never got tired of answering it.

"I do. And he just left us without taking us with him. Mama would have gone with him, but he just left. I waited for him. I waited and waited."

" _Welp_ , you just left Daddy. Hope he knows what it feels like now." Ghost said with a huff.

"He doesn't care. He's not sad about it."

Carlton was surprised to find Abigail and Billie Joe running up to their direction and his Daddy not too far off in his white robe strutting and stopping, strutting and stopping with Andre and excited Marty on either side of him almost tripping him up.

Fear so intense grasped the pit of Rick's belly and swirled in his head.

A child running off. Now two running off and looks to have left the yard was too much for Rick. Too much. He had to go and bring them back to safety, and the empty spot where he parked the rental car wasn't lost on him either.

Uncle Charlie and Granny who was holding her stirring spoon in one hand and the bible in the other both stood in the screen door watching the spectacle unfold. Gladys and Knight thought it safest to peer through the heavy drapes out the window. They were not about to follow the boogey man in the robe. Stranger Danger, white man alert was engrained only in them it seemed.

"Do you think he harmed them?" Granny asked Uncle Charlie.

"Where's the shotgun Granny?"

"In my room in the closet. Want me to get it, Uncle Charlie?"

"Keep it there. No need for it. Just want to make sure Michonne don't have access to it if she finds out boy child and girl child roaming more than 400 yards away."

"Yes, indeed."

"Indeed."

Abigail and Billie Joe both breathless and in unison, "Daddy said to come back. He says to come back now."

Carl stopped his aimless plight of running off.

"You going back now, Carlton?" Ghost stopped because her brother stopped walking.

"We don't want him to go away because we don't listen." Abigail offered reasons for Carlton to behave. "You heard him tell Andre and Marty that was on _his_ _list_."

* * *

Michonne had a long conversation about the topic that caused her less shame than she thought the next morning on her way to work. She wasn't sure if anyone was listening, but she was happy, scared and nervous.

"I hadn't had sex in a long time you know. I like to think I conquered my fear. I think if he had said a word I would have probably stopped. I am confident I wouldn't have continued."

 _He's not a bad guy_.

"I think if he had touched me, I would have stopped."

 _If you go slow, real slow, he will come around to seeing things our way_.

"If he would have made more than the one sound I know I would have stopped. I would have."

Michonne parked the car in front of Daryl's Automotive. Daryl himself had come out of the garage with his mouth agape.

Daryl knew what Michonne would say, she would tell him to close his mouth unless he was trying to catch flies when really it was a soundless, What In The Hell?

Dressed the way she was Daryl knew he was dealing with a sane version of the woman he had known since they were running around the Deep Redneck Hollar together in their early through late teens. She was dressed with her customary white blouse, too tight of a vest, jeans and boots. Her dreads were down and she wore a colorful scarf on top to keep her hair from going into her face.

Daryl knew of the different versions of the woman, and the one he needed was Onne who would randomly come to work in a pair of blue coveralls, but he would make due with Michonne to at _least_ keep his books balanced and to answer the burning question, _What In The Hell_?

Michonne was distracted by her thoughts that were coming in every direction. Stepping out of the car with the Key Fob in her hand, helped to quiet the incessant chatter. She was able to focus on the look of confusion from her childhood friend's face.

"Where you get it from?" Daryl asked.

"What?"

"What do you mean what?"

"The car?"

"This has the makings of Suzanne, Michonne. I thought you said she was dead?"

"She is or was, but now she's not."

"At what point did she come back?"

"Not sure. I think this is the first time I realized my Uncle Charlie lied to me about burying her in the back of the house."

"Uncle Charlie lying means he had a good reason to not tell you the full truth. You know that, right?"

Michonne knew that her Uncle Charlie always saw the bigger picture of things even if what he saw was ass-backward. Uncle Charlie always knew the best way to navigate through chaos.

"Again, where did you get the car?"

"The kids, Daddy."

"He's back?"

"Yeah."

"For how long if _you_ are aware of him?"

"Why are _you_ in my business?"

"Your business effects my business." Daryl motioned his arms to indicate Daryl's Automotive just in case Michonne didn't get the magnitude of a Suzanne left loose and unmonitored.

"She knew where the asshole was all along. I got the information from her and went right to his house."

"I told you to wait. I told you to wait for me to finish the last car and I would ride the Greyhound bus out there with you."

"Some things can't be helped, put off or delayed."

"Fucking around with Suzanne and that Baby Daddy, you're right. She could have gotten you killed. Remember that story..."

"I have a lot of stories swimming around here," Michonne motioned to her temple. "I know about them, and they have nothing to do with me and a whole lot to do with Suzanne. I have some from a few of the others and an epic one about the one who works in your garage under the cars. I don't care to make sense of most of it, if any of it right now. I have a fuck load of kids that are looking to me to make a way and keep them safe. I can't do it all on my own."

"Well, you need to understand that you can't continue to keep those two loonies from each other. You can't. Now you telling me he's back and this is his car?" Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"He's back, but this isn't his car. This belongs to 'You Need A Rental."

Daryl shook his head as he wiped his hands on the dirty rag.

"A BMW?"

"I didn't select it."

"The last time I saw him we fought. He thinks I want you. I hope he resolved the shit in his head. If he hasn't let him know I have a crowbar waiting for him. I will fuck him up this time. I am not going to fight fair."

* * *

 _With the bags in his hands he made the right and headed on down the road cutting through a couple of fields. Herschel went to the window inside of his store and watched the bowlegged man until he was just a speck and that didn't take long because his vision wasn't it's best. The fella was headed back to the colored territory. Herschel wondered what was his business in that direction._

 _IF_ , Herschel's vison was much better or if he had continued to watch a moment longer, he would have noticed a black BMW going at a high speed through the field ready to run the man over...


	24. Chapter 24

"Honey, no offense, but sometimes I think I could shoot you and watch you kick."  
 **― Raymond Carver, Where I'm Calling From: New and Selected Stories**

* * *

"I am grateful to you for going out to bring them back. If Michonne would have seen it..." Uncle Charlie shook his head at the thought that crossed his mind.

Rick was staring down the inside of a hole that was dug on the side of the house. They were waiting for Carlton to come back outside with a pair of boots because Rick insisted that the young boy needed to stop walking around barefoot.

"I'm getting too old to chase the kids around, and Granny is losing a lot of Pep in her step especially if she got the kids looking for their own switches."

"A switch for what?"

"To take to their behinds and legs."

"Not necessary."

"How so?"

"Must I answer that?"

Rick gave the old man a momentary look before going back to stare at the hole that had a bucket and a rope tied to it.

"I think if you were to answer, it would clear up a lot of things."

"I don't want to hear anything more about switches is all I am going to say on the subject."

"How do you expect a child to know right from wrong?"

"Pain from someone that is supposed to protect and love has to be a confusing message when teaching."

"Is this book learning they teaching or an opinion that you formed with no child to train of your own?"

"Other ways of learning direction."

"For you, it seems Michonne is under the impression that hands-on is the only way." Uncle Charlie responded back.

His suspicion had been more than verified and confirmed. He took what the man was saying without feeling insulted by it.

Uncle Charlie was from a different generation and time period. To get a black man's attention was to show him a noose. To control a child show him the belt like a whip demonstrated for his ancestors that remained physically enslaved if not mentally to this very day.

The old man enjoyed enough television shows or movies that depicted putting little Timmy in the time out corner as if it was the optimal way to discipline even if Timmy was trying to burn the house down. Yes indeed. Different generation, different time. Lock em up was the answer. Lockem up or medicate 'em. This world was almost unsuitable for children who didn't understand the word No.

Carlton ran over to the two men at the time Uncle Charlie realized that he was going to be in need of a third shovel. He walked off to get it from the corner of the porch.

Rick eyed Carlton and spoke directly to him.

"If there is a request for switches from this point forward you tell me. You tell your brothers and sisters the same as I told you. Any switch that you are told to get, give it to me."

"You going to whoop us?" Carlton's eyes were wide.

"No. I am going to break it or toss it and dare anyone to say anything to me about it."

Carlton was confused but understood it was a message for him to relay.

"Do you want me to go into the house and tell them now?"

"Later after I have a talk with Granny and your Mama about it."

"Don't you think it would be best that all the kids heard it from you?" Uncle Charlie questioned Rick from a short distance away.

Uncle Charlie may be old, but he had eyes like a hawk and ears for hearing.

Rick was startled that he was heard.

"You don't have Boy child deliver a message that should more than likely come from _A_ _Daddy_."

Rick conceded with a slight nod.

"In less than 24 hours I have completely solved the riddle of who you are young man. A good daddy can't hide aspects of himself for very long- if at all."

Uncle Charlie motioned for the Boy child to take up a shovel which in turn caused Rick to pick up the one nearest his foot.

Uncle Charlie looked over at Rick and the shovel in his hand.

"How much energy do you guess you have?"

Rick thought it was an odd question directed at him. He went to the roof and patched the hole. He went in the attic and patched the other hole. The pipes he did discover needed some work under the kitchen sink because it leaked in a bucket. How to fix it he had no clue without having a crash course from YouTube, but Michonne had his damn iPhone in the glove box of the car, and the car was gone.

The hot water heater was definitely on the blitz. The thermostat wasn't reliable and it was a hard time for Rick to shower with scalding hot water every two to three minutes then ice cold. How to fix it he had no clue without having the crash course from Youtube. If it was all going to be too technical he would call someone who specializes in plumbing, but Michonne had his phone.

"We got a foot or so more of digging to get to the Well pump, and you didn't eat supper, and you didn't eat the oatmeal. What fuel do you have other than fumes?"

The revelation was true. He was hungry, but he wasn't starving necessarily. He had one bite of a Snickers bar before he realized he was breaking it into eight pieces. It lured Gladys and Knight out of hiding to take it from Carlton, before running off screaming Stranger Danger. Rick wondered if it should be, Danger Stranger.

An hour later, Carlton handed him a peach and a tall glass of water. Rick didn't care too much for peaches, but that peach was the best peach he ever had, so yeah-he was hungry.

* * *

"Here! Talk to your Mama."

"What's going on?" Michonne asked her Granny.

"What's going on? I can't have your kids go out and get a switch anymore per the stranger from Craigslist." Granny handed the phone to a sobbing Carlton.

"He's gone."

"Gone?" Michonne questioned. She knew exactly who her son was referring too.

This was the second time that Carl had broken down in a matter of hours. Ghost was sad because Carlton was sad and it was the same for Abigail, Billie Joe, and Andre. Marty was unaffected because he knew his Daddy would be back. He sat on the front porch step and waited. The twins were relieved that the boogeyman had finally gone away.

It cut Michonne up in so many pieces to hear him cry and she wasn't sure what happened or what was going on because she was at Daryl's counting the register down for the day. She had just finished when she got the call, and instantly she was up and headed out the door.

"He just left. It's been two hours going on three." Carlton informed his mother.

"I will take care of it. Stop crying for me and stay strong. I need you to believe I will take care of it."

"Okay."

"Where you going, Michonne?"

Daryl rolled from under a car he was working on because the front door of the garage office area slammed and Michonne was headed to the Black BMW. Her back was to him and she didn't slow to look at him or get his permission.

"To kill someone."

"Who?"

"A Daddy."

Daryl sat and watched her start the car up and peel off down the road.

* * *

Rick found himself confused. He had the chips and soda but no real idea of how in the hell to get back. Every turn looked like the same damn field that he had just crossed. That one Red Maple wasn't any different from the other one.

He did remember the house but just how to get there by foot was a puzzle with no road signs or recognizable landmarks. It was a wonder that he had found the gas station.

He thought if he hadn't gotten so engrossed in the conversation in his head he wouldn't have been so turned around.

 _The kids need you._

"Don't you think I know that?"

 _Glad you spoke up about those switches that Granny have them get when they don't behave._

"Had to."

 _If your mother would have allowed it your father would have sent you to boarding school._

"Doesn't sound bad."

 _How so?_

"Wouldn't have had all those kids."

 _Why do you do that?_

"What?"

 _The kids are here. They are alive and breathing. No, take backs._

"Not my doing."

 _Doesn't make it less done._ Done.

"I just wish their Mama..." Rick trailed off

 _What?_

"Nothing."

 _What?_

"Nothing."

 _You sweet on her. We told you._

"I am not sweet on Michonne. Maybe there was a time but that time is gone. I need my phone."

 _For what?_

"I need to call my Dad. I need to tell him I am in Georgia. I need to call Lori and let her know I've made it safe and when she's ready to talk about me coming back..."

 _How old are you?_

"It's responsible. You wouldn't know about it. Leaving the kids. Never coming back."

 _That was you. You. I can prove it._

 _"_ Try."

 _You only told one child where you were going. Why didn't you tell them all? Why didn't you mention it to Carlton at least? He remembers you leaving. Telling him, you were coming back, and you thought I was going to stand by and let another day, night or evening go by and not contact Suzanne?_

"It was you?"

 _I made contact, and I don't regret it. Told her where I was. Told her to convince Michonne to come to California. She said Michonne would only go if she could be on Jeopardy. The thought of Suzanne on Jeopardy-. My Suzanne is a lot of things, but she isn't Jeopardy material. Michonne yes. My Suzanne, not so much._

"You planned this? You conspired?"

 _I knew Michonne had no reservations in exposing you. Revealing it all to Lori so I could get the hell out of California. I DIDN'T WANT TO MARRY LORI! You Fucking Asshole!_

"I did. I wanted to marry Lori."

I didn't you dumbass, buddy, friend, life partner, my alter ego. My wife is trapped in the meanest Bitch in town, and I'm stuck inside of a GOD Damn Moron! Now stop talking to me and find the house.

Rick was standing in front of a random mobile home where a woman got up from her lawn chair hearing the commotion of one voice answering and talking to himself. She went inside only to come out with a shotgun aimed at him.

He was utterly lost. He thought to go up to a different home once he became focused, but a large dog chased him clean off the road and back into the field. Where he could follow the electric poles and still not be any closer because he was going in the wrong direction. The direction was towards town eventually.

Panic began to find it's familiar place next to an unparallel level of anxiety. Maybe it was the hunger that was starting to pound the walls of his belly because of the hollowness. The sounds of swish, the swishing of water that he drank until he felt nauseated was going to do him in. The sun was about to call it a night in another hour or two.

The sight before him made him think he was hallucinating like a lost man in a desert looking for water but it was only a mirage. He was a foot traveler in need of transportation if not some clear direction when he saw the speeding car in the middle of the field coming his way. The car was not on the road but in the field.

It was a black car that looked very familiar until it got closer and closer. It was evident that Rick was going to meet his demise as he took off running in the direction of the trees but he lost his footing. Or was he actually bumped? Rick had no memory because he found himself face down on the ground with blades of grass and dirt on his lips. The bags with the chips and soda lay at least twenty yards away. The engine revving. Rev. Rev.

Rick got up from off the ground wiping the earth from his face. The car pulled forward, and Rick passed out cold. Michonne got out of the car and instantly lost time.

"Baby, Baby. Oh My God, Baby. Baby. Are you okay? Please. Talk to me. Talk to me Sinclaire."

"What in the fuckity Fuck?"

"Are you okay?"

"I thought you had control?"

"I would say I did. She didn't run you over."

"Oh my fucking God, woman."

"Are you okay?"

"A BMW in the field? That's a Rental. That is NOT my car nor is it his. You know that, right?"

"Yes, Sinclaire."

"Please inform Michonne for the love of God."

"I think she knows. She just doesn't care. Carlton called crying. He's afraid that you aren't coming back. You were a dead man, Sinclaire. She was gunning for Rick. I just can't live without you."

"You may just have too if I can't find Moron and push him out. Scared his ass to death." Sinclaire was on his back with Suzanne worried on her knees trying to prop him up. She was so worried about him.

"I love you, baby." She brushed the golden feather reeds and ryegrass from his hair.

He couldn't help but want to kiss her, and he did kiss her directly on the mouth. He wanted to touch her, and he did. He wanted to feel her breast in his hands and taste the places along her neck and he did that too.

If Suzanne had on a dress, he would have had an easier time of hiking it up and pulling her panties to the side so he could bury his face and listen to her whine. No, he couldn't do all that because she was dressed like Michonne and he had to make due to what he had access.

Sinclair's engine was in overdrive when Suzanne began to work his belt buckle. He felt the cold grass on his bare ass, and his pants were pulled to his thighs. She slipped out of her boots and jeans and climbed on top. He rolled on top of her and began making haste. To make love to Suzanne. His Suzanne wasn't something he was going to pass up. Not when he would get to the point of not being able to experience this separate from Rick.

"Hurry, Sinclaire before she comes back. Hurry."

Sinclaire buried himself deep. He loved for Suzanne to bite all over his neck the way that she was doing. He loved everything about the woman beneath him. Everything. He was riding the wave that was ready to crash him to shore. His face no longer buried in her neck where he enjoyed inhaling her scent from her hair and skin. This was going to be a loud grunt, and it was mounted on top of the small sounds he was already making.

He was close, and she was good, so very good at making him want to stay right there, right then with the way she called him Sinclaire. He was spraying his seed and she was coating him with her love juices when the inevitable happened. Rick appeared, and Michonne almost had a stroke.

* * *

A/N:

Taking a momentary break until possibly tomorrow with another update to this story that tickles me and I hope those who choose to continue find pleasure. Thank you.


	25. Chapter 25

"I hate solitude, but I'm afraid of intimacy. The substance of my life is a private conversation with myself which to turn into a dialogue would be equivalent to self-destruction. The company which I need is the company which a pub or a cafe will provide. I have never wanted a communion of souls. It's already hard enough to tell the truth to oneself."  
 **― Iris Murdoch, ****Under the Net **

* * *

Rick couldn't help himself. There was one more full throttle thrust he needed to perform to catch the tail end of a powerful orgasmic event that he was thrown in-after the fact. It was involuntary. It was that indescribable tingle around his pelvic area. He was punched as he said ahhhh when satisfying what was equivalent to an itch.

Michonne was in tears. Rick was trying to see through stars from the blow he suffered from the side of his head causing him to roll off of her. She was getting dressed faster than anyone he knew. Sex in a wide open field with a black BMW with the engine still running...

"I thought you had control of him, Rick!?" Michonne was horrified that she had all of her clothes off and Rick was still practically dressed even though his pants were now down to his knees.

"That goes both ways, Michonne. Why the hell did you have to hit me so fucking hard?"

"If it weren't for Suzanne I would have killed you and let you rot in this field. No one would have come looking for you for days or weeks. You would be a rotting corpse if it wasn't for Suzanne."

"Well, I like to thank Suzanne for one more day with you."

"I'm tired of being taken advantage of! I'm tired of it."

"Well, I didn't complain when you-."

"Stop it." Michonne knew what he was referring too. "Get up and pull your pants up. You look like a pervert."

"A pervert that Suzanne can't seem to resist."

The idea that she of all people had that come out of her mouth annoyed Rick. He got to his feet,straightened himself out and tightened his belt with great emphasis.

"I need you to give me my phone."

"Why?"

"I need you to call me ahead of time if you are going to kill me."

"Why would I want to warn you?"

"So, I can take it like a man." He grabbed the bags from off the ground and placed them in the back seat.

"Get in the car. You know where your phone is. It is where you put it."

Inside the car, Michonne drove and Rick buckled up, "I wasn't leaving Michonne."

"Where were you going? Because you weren't in the direction to keep you alive."

"I have no idea where that house is, and I thought there would be a clear indication at some point in my delirium."

"What Delirium?"

"I need food before I pass out. How do we get to town?"

"Are you plotting your escape? Because I am going to need you to close your eyes."

"I did that hours ago. Plotted my escape. Their Mama came in my room and had her way with me and it confused a lot of things in my head. So with my plan to runaway from _her_ and _them_ in motion, I ran into Marty who is quite perceptive. He smiles a lot and I think that is his ploy to make everyone think he is simple or possibly a child that you and I will need to keep an extra eye on. Anyway, I made an agreement with Marty to get chips, soda, and to come back. He said those were the three things that were important to him from the list."

* * *

"What you doing, boy child?"

Marty peered up at his Uncle Charlie that was standing behind him as he sat on the porch, rocking and strumming his fingers on his knees waiting for his Daddy to come back.

He had to pee, but he didn't want to miss his Daddy coming back to him with some Potato chips.

"Waiting." Marty responded.

"How long do you plan to do that?"

"Till he gets back." Marty replied.

"What if he doesn't come back?"

"He's coming." Marty smiled at his Uncle Charlie and went back to tapping his knees with his small fingers and rocking back and forth.

A few minutes later, the sight of the black car came in view and the cloud of dirt trailing behind caught Marty's attention. Marty stood up and officially pissed his pants. Pissing on himself didn't matter because his Mama was back, and from what he could see the closer the vehicle came, she had Daddy. He came back!

"Well, I be! You see that young boy child, he's back."

"He's BACK!" Marty shouted loud enough for everyone in the house to hear. All of the kids came pouring out except for Gladys and Knight who kept themselves in the window peeking through the heavy drapes. When they realized it was Mama too, they came out on the porch. If their Mama wasn't there they would have stayed inside and watched from a safe distance.

It was like a repetition of the word, Come back, Uncle Charlie thought. Yes. Their Daddy had come back, and it looked every bit from where the old man stood that Michonne had to drag him back.

"Carlton. Abigail. Billie Joe and the one with no name come on and help us out. Got some food and I can't carry it all even though your Mama may think I can." Sinclair opened the back door of the car to find his Suzanne not too happy with him on the other side reaching for a bucket.

"Her name is Ghost."

"No child of mine is Boo."

"Her name is Ghost. Not Boo."

"Might as well be. That's how I think about it and feel about it."

"You are terrible Sinclaire. You tell me to behave and stay inside, and yet you are out and about?"

"Had to make sure he got enough food to feed a family and I wanted to tell you, I love you, Suzanne."

"I love you."

Rick was startled by what he just heard come out of Michonne's mouth as she grabbed a bucket of chicken from the back seat. She was looking directly at him when she said it.

"Now you want me to believe you love me?"

Rick didn't wait for a response and she was distracted by the children that were waiting for something to carry of the food that was purchased. He handed two buckets of chicken to Carlton and a bucket of chicken to Ghost who remained standing there as if he was to do more or say more.

"Is there a problem?" Rick asked with the bags in his hands and Marty touching his arm to get his attention. He was unsure what more the little girl needed.

"I have a name."

"Ghost?"

Ghost nodded.

"If I am going to be who you think and wish me to be, it will not be what I would want to call you or refer to you. I don't want to start calling you by a name that I prefer less for you, and then it becomes habit before a real name has been established. I haven't put much thought into it like maybe I should because it has all become news to me. I would like to talk it over with your Mama and then have a discussion with you. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now let's go and eat."

Rick walked towards the house with Ghost walking slightly ahead. He marveled that Marty somehow was able to find a finger of his to hold as they climbed the steps to enter the house with Michonne holding open the door.

"Marty, did you piss yourself?" Michonne asked.

Rick could smell the urine, and the stain was visible down the young child's pant leg.

"Yep."

* * *

"Now this would be _real_ good with some beans and cornbread," Granny commented, but no one was in agreement when there was mash potatoes and gravy, corn, soft biscuits, and plenty of fried chicken.

Michonne had taken Marty and got him washed up with Rick watching the process from the bathroom doorway.

Marty was eager to take Rick with him to the kitchen, but Rick declined any further interaction with the excuse he needed to get washed up too.

"Okay."

"Then I am going to rest up for a busy day tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Marty hugged Rick's leg and then walked over to Michonne who was sitting on the edge of the white porcelain tub to give her a wet kiss on her cheek before racing out of the bathroom to get to the kitchen.

"I wanted to see how it was done." Rick admitted to his fascination of the best way to interact with Marty. It didn't seem like it would take much to keep a generally happy child happy.

"When we get the washer and dryer delivered I might just cry. Washing everything by hand have gotten old. Hauling things to the laundromat is out of the question with no vehicle." Michonne was leaning over the tub faucet, allowing the running water to soak the soiled pair of hand-me-down Osh-kosh that were too small for a growing boy like Marty.

"Do you know when the washer and Dryer is coming?"

"God only knows. They told Suzanne. I have the papers."

"If you don't mind, I would like to take a look at them when you get a chance."

"Okay."

"Are you scheduled to work tomorrow?"

"Daryl's."

"What time?"

"Seven in the morning to one."

"I will take you and pick you up."

"Take me where?"

"To work."

Michonne became suspicious and it was written all over her face.

"I was thinking that me and maybe Carlton can take some of the clothes to the laundromat and by the time you are done at Daryl's-"

"Granny will not have you touching her laundry. You might as well take her and not Carlton. Take Ghost with you too. Abigail won't go without Billie Joe and those two love compliments. Ghost is cautious. Carlton stays here to keep an eye on Uncle Charlie."

"Why does Carlton need to watch Uncle Charlie?"

"He's almost a hundred years old. He could die at anytime."

"Michonne?"

"Yeah?"

"Just checking."

"You need to check yourself. Don't worry about me."

"I want to help with the load. It has to be a lot."

"It is and it has been."

"I was thinking we, you and I go to the grocery store."

"Herschel's Market is the only grocery store for miles around."

"Is it the same man that owns the Gas Station?"

"He's also the Sheriff. Self appointed."

"Is that legal?"

"No one knows to complain. He doesn't bother us. Uncle Charlie doesn't have a bad word to say about it as long as he doesn't try to serve him another piece of paper about taking his land."

"Where are those papers?"

"In his room. Most likely in the floorboard."

"I am going to have a talk with Uncle Charlie to see if I can have a look at those papers too."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why is this different this time, Rick?"

"This time, I'm not running, Michonne. I am trying to understand and that is what makes this different."

* * *

Rick had taken his shower and sat with his back against the headboard of the bed reading the documents regarding the prizes that were won. He was dressed in a pair of sweats and sport emblem t-shirt and socks covered his feet.

"They want to say goodnight to you."

Rick's mouth was open and Michonne had to fight the desire to tell him to close it. She ushered them all in at once Gladys and Knight weren't willing and Michonne wasn't about to force the situation and allowed Granny to tend to them.

"Do you like sleeping with our Mama?"

Rick was surprised by this question from Marty who was smiling brightly until he received a shove from Ghost.

"Ask me in a week. Right now I am trying to get used to it."

"What's going to happen if you don't get used to it?"

This was dropped on him by Carlton.

"I would then consider buying a better bed that didn't squeak as much as this one does."

Michonne eyes widen when Rick used the word squeak but it was too late to stop him from talking. The kids were highly amused in the answers that were provided that indicated their Daddy wasn't going anywhere for at least a week and the problem wouldn't be sleeping with their Mama but a need for a new mattress.

"Now you all had a chance to see him and talk to him."

"Thank you for buying the food." Carlton wanted his father to know he was tired of beans and cornbread too.

"The soda was good." Marty commented.

"Granny wouldn't let us have the chips."

Andre stood closest to the bed. His hand was on the mattress and Rick wondered if he was going to be touched by those fingers again today. He had the constant touching from Marty and he found himself holding both Andre and Marty's hand when going after Carlton earlier today.

"She said we can have it as a snack for tomorrow." Billie Joe replied.

"We have our own separate bags." Marty smiled brightly.

"I'm going to eat mine watching television and I am going to ask Granny to give me more than half a cup of coke a cola." Abigail planned how she was going to enjoy her chips and cup of soda.

"I'm going to the Grocery Store with your Mama tomorrow. We are going to fill up the refrigerator with other things and I need to know what you all would like to see more of and I will bring it back. I hope to see a list when I come back here from dropping off the laundry. Who's the one that can write in cursive?"

They all raised their hands.

"Who's the best at it?"

The children that were in the room pointed at Carlton.

"Carlton is in charge of talking to each of you tomorrow about what you want from the store. You are on laundry duty, Ghost. You will need to be up at 7am with Granny. You will help me with laundry and keep an eye on Granny." Rick announced and used the logic that Granny could possibly die at any moment. He smirked at Michonne wondering if she caught it and she did with a slight smirk back at him.

This news put a damper on things. Every child wanted to go to the laundromat and thought it unfair that Ghost was going to spend the most time with Daddy. Michonne ushered them out to argue about it amongst themselves. She was leading them all upstairs to bed to tuck them in for the night.

Before Marty closed the door he paused to look back at Rick and whispered, "Good night, Daddy."

"Goodnight, son."


	26. Chapter 26

_"When forever becomes a place...when forever ceases to be just a word… when it ceases to be just a measurement of time…but instead becomes a place where soul mates can dance to the song in their hearts... that is a reflection of true love."_  
 _ **― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free**_

* * *

 _"Goodnight, son."_

The two words had fallen naturally from his lips without the slightest consideration. Rick sat in awe for a short period of time trying to process his feelings as he watched the small boy close the door.

Grief soon replaced the feeling of awe. He felt it was going to cripple him if he didn't get a hold of himself. Memories of his son Carl rushed and flooded his mind. The loss was threatening to create a great divide and destroy any semblance of balance between him and his Alter. The cheering squad were standing and booing him with a large thumbs down sign. With one long inhale and exhale he felt Sinclaire retreat even though begrudgingly.

The document about the prizes became his central focus again. It was an excellent distraction. He contemplated what connections he had in that particular industry that he could contact to expedite the delivery of the two appliances and the random others, when he heard the creak from the bedroom door. He observed Michonne stepping inside, closing the door behind her.

He was particularly more nervous about this evening than the first night. He wasn't sure why until she came upon his side of the bed reaching to take his socks off.

Rick wasn't against it, the removal of his socks and then his sweatpants that she struggled to remove. His sweatpants was another matter with him still in a sitting position. He placed the papers about the washer and dryer down on the nightstand. He moved his body over to the edge of the bed, his feet fell flat on the floor. He was ready to give Michonne, his full undivided attention.

Michonne had him completely naked. She finessed his undress like the night before, everything done without words. He watched her step out of her sleep clothes, and she allowed him to admire her nude form, standing before him. The air in the room became thin as his breathing was faint, he found it difficult to exhale. Breathless.

She was caressing the hairs along his jawline as if she had something to admire and to keep her enchanted. She was a very good seductress, Rick thought to himself. A beautiful goddess that he wasn't going to shield his eyes or miss a moment of. If death was upon him, this was the ultimate way to die. Inhale

He gripped the edge of the bed. He allowed her face to come in contact with his, cheek to cheek, like two cats nuzzling each other. The places that were sparse with hair that hid his face enjoyed the softness from the contact, following along her jawline and near her ear were the same places for him. Soft.

The scent from her skin and hair had become synonymous with everything Michonne. On the airplane, he considered her fragrance too sweet. Now, it was incredibly intoxicating what her cheap fruity scent could do to him.

Every time she rolled her hips he heard the sound of thunder.

No matter how he struggled to remain present, Rick was becoming lost in his head, tangled in a memory of the past unable to tell the difference between him and what was happening to him right then and there...

* * *

 _Sinclaire waited. The headlights turned off made the whole area practically pitched black. He was relieved when Suzanne finally appeared by the passenger door._

 _"I didn't think you were coming."_

 _"Had to wait for my Granny to turn off her lights."_

 _Suzanne tossed her duffle bag in the backseat of the convertible. Sinclaire pushed open the door for her to slide on in._

 _He was happy to see her. He thought he would burst. He revved the engine, turned on his headlights and drove. Happily drumming his hand on the top of the steering wheel, he stole a glance her way._

 _"Where are we going?" Suzanne asked._

 _"I thought we just spend time together. You are now, 18. You had graduated from highschool yesterday. I thought we just spend time."_

 _"How much time, Sinclaire?"_

 _"Forever?"_

 _Suzanne couldn't help but smile. She was so happy that she thought she was going to burst too. She didn't give any thought to Uncle Charlie nor Granny._

 _Sinclaire arrived at the fork in the road, pausing for a moment to consider which direction. He wasn't sure which route to take because nothing was planned other than being with Suzanne._

 _"I want forever with you Suzanne. Do you want forever with me?"_

 _Forever will always be the smell of the night air, fireflies and the stars shining brightly_...

"Where are we, Sinclaire?"

"My parent's house on the lake."

"Wow. This is... Wow."

"It's okay," Sinclaire shrugged his shoulders.

"Are you rich?"

"My parents are."

"Wow."

"Come on. Let me show you the inside."

Sinclaire grabbed her duffle bag from the backseat. He took her hand in his, and they walked together towards the house.

They entered the house using the side entrance that led to the Gourmet kitchen. Sinclaire didn't realize his family was still hosting a small gathering in that part of the house. The small group consisted of immediate family members from his father's side. They were all surprised to see him with someone other than Lori when he entered.

"Son, what's going on?" Senior was surprised to see his son standing before everyone like a deer in headlights.

"Nothing is going on." Sinclair began to get defensive.

Rick's mother Ella shot her husband a look and stepped forward, "Who is it that you have with you, Son?"

"Michonne."

"Michonne?" The husband and wife echoed the name at the same time.

"What are you talking about? I'm Suzanne."

Sinclaire gave Suzanne's hand a slight squeeze to reassure her he knew but this was Rick's moment.

"She likes to be called, Suzanne, but her real name is Michonne." Sinclaire informed the entire room of people who were providing mostly blank stares.

Rick pushed forth but quickly retreated based on the eyes staring at him. His Alter clearly had the stage. Sinclaire was becoming indignant that he was a grown man at twenty-two but was still made to feel like a child and it didn't help things with Rick trickling in and out. Indecisive.

Suzanne was completely confused about what was going on. All eyes were on them, and HE referred to her as someone that she was not. She stood mute. Unable to form the words _Hello, nice to meet you_. Mute.

Sinclaire could see that they were all putting their kid gloves on. He hated that they would do it. He hated that they didn't take him seriously. He was trying very hard to not get angry.

"Son, Uh, why don't you take your friend on into the familyroom to get comfortable. We are so happy to meet you, Dear. I am Ella and, this is Richard's father Senior. You can call me Ms. Ella and Richards father is just Senior. The rest of the family-."

Ms. Ella waved off the introduction to the others in the room because she didn't think it mattered. It did matter. It mattered to Sinclaire. The whispers were what was annoying too. Sinclair felt what he considered the official retreat of Rick.

The silence. Oh, the terrible silence. Sinclaire grabbed an entire tray of hors-d'oeuvres daring anyone to say anything to him. He handed Michonne the bottled drinks that he found in the refrigerator for her to carry.

What he wanted to prove he felt he did. Michonne existed. She wasn't a figment of his imagination. This was who he loved, and there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it as he escorted her upstairs to his bedroom.

Suzanne stepped inside marveling at the size and the furnishings. He had his own television mounted to the wall, two chairs by the floor to ceiling windows, a large bed, desk, and dressing table.

She was admiring everything when she asked, "This is _your_ room?"

"Yes."

"Wow, Sinclaire."

Concern was written all over her face over the sound of the bedroom door closing after he set her duffle bag on the chair and the tray of food on his desk. Michonne hurriedly walked over to open it.

"What are you doing?" Sinclaire asked.

"Your mother said for us to be in the living room."

Sinclaire waved his hand that indicated for her to pay his parents no attention. He had no qualms about being dismissive towards his family.

"Your mother-" Michonne began but was cut off.

"I don't want to spend time with you in the living room, Suzanne. I want to spend time with you right here in my room. I have a television if you want to watch TV. We can play video games. I have my own bathroom through those doors. We can stay here and be together."

"Be together? We can be together downstairs on the couch and watch TV." Michonne suggested.

Sinclaire was confused by what was happening. He tried to gauge the girl he wanted forever with, he was unsure if she felt or wanted the same thing. He didn't want her to retreat because he was really looking forward to admiring her, to having her all to himself. There wasn't anything in particular that he wanted to do. Sitting next to her was more than satisfactory. What he didn't like was that he could sense her anxiety that could bring on an impending panic attack. A fainting spell. He suffered from them too at times.

"How ever you want, Suzanne. I want what you want. I don't care. I just know that I want to spend it here, alone with you." The heat grew in his cheeks from his most honest remarks and thoughts spoken aloud.

"Won't your parents be mad that we aren't listening?"

"They don't care, Suzanne. If it makes you feel better, we can leave the door open." Sinclaire was more than willing to compromise.

Suzanne opened the door as wide as it could go. She felt the tightness in her chest dissipate. A headache was gone along with the dark cloud that hovered. The shadow moved stealthily to the back of her mind. She could breathe. Exhale.

"Do you want to sit down or do you want to just stand around?" Sinclaire asked nervously, wondering where that energy was coming from within him.

Sinclaire scratched the places that seemed to itch, right at the back of his neck and his eyebrow. He waited for a response. Her flower dress that she wore with her dreads pinned up was a nice distraction. Her face he could only comfortably view for short periods of time without wanting to possibly kiss her if she was okay with doing that at some point. He had never kissed anyone. He was very interested in the idea and it had kept him tied up in knots where often times he had to look away or fall under the spell and possibly make her angry with him.

"I'll sit with you."

Rick took Michonne's hand and led her to the foot of his bed. He sat. She stood.

"Don't worry. I don't want nothing from you. Just want to talk. Nothing more."

Because of the constant weaving in and out, he had only the bits and pieces. Now, what he had garnered began to make sense years later. Without any context until now, Rick felt he had a much clearer picture. With that knowledge, he wasn't sure how he ever ended up with Lori in the first place.

 _I know. I agree._ Sinclaire voice resonated in his subconscious.

They had shared what had seem like an endless conversation in his bedroom, years ago. A conversation that helped two broken souls find meaning through thoughtful reflection, finding humor to chuckle, and a protector in each other in revealing their tearful confessions. Being understood without having to be ashamed was liberating, exhilarating. There wasn't any words to truly describe the beauty in finding-acceptance.

* * *

Quietly, Abigail, Billie Jo, and Ghost crept into their oldest brother's room. This was an unacceptable act that was only permitted with the door wide open, and if caught they would have to search for a switch in the morning if they weren't swatted with Granny's house slipper across their behind's and the back of their legs. This meeting was urgent and worth the risk since their Daddy had told Granny no more switches when she was about to have Andre go out and find one for not doing exactly as told, when told.

The way their Daddy stood up to Granny standing on the porch, and he stood on the bottom step refusing for Andre to get what she told him was a sight. They all stood around amazed by the man with dirt creased in his skin and clothes from trying dig around the well-pump. It was something they surely won't forget, ever. The buckets of chicken was a bright red cherry on each of their Sundaes.

"You are lucky, Ghost."

"How so?"

"You get to spend time with, Daddy."

She couldn't argue that. She felt pretty lucky and nervous about it.

"Even if it is at the laundromat. You are lucky."

"Daddy said he is thinking about a name for me."

"Do you want another name?" Billie Joe asked.

Ghost shrugged. She had only given thought to it since it was going to happen now that their Daddy was home.

"What if he likes the name, Sally?"

Sally? Sally? Ghost questioned the name in her mind, and it didn't sit well with her.

"He's not going to pick Sally. Why do you think he would?" Carlton asked Billie Joe who suggested the name.

"How do you know he won't?" Abigail shot back brushing back her blondish curls from her face.

"I would like to hear his reasoning behind it." Carlton responded.

"I'm going to call you Ghost. You've always been Ghost. I can't imagine any other name." Abigail declared and Billie Jo nodded.

"Me neither." Ghost agreed with her two sisters but added, "There're a lot of names that's nice, and he said he would talk to me about it. That means a choice." Ghost was hopeful.

"Said he is going to stay around." Carlton offered another idea for them to mull over.

"I hope he stays." Billie Joe stated.

"Mama's nervous about it." Carlton revealed.

"How do you know?" Ghost eyes widened by the information. A nervous Mama was something to worry about.

Carlton shrugged. He just knew that everyone had to do the right thing to keep their Daddy around for good. Behave and listen was what he was going to do if that was going to keep his Daddy from running off in the night.

"He says we need to listen and behave. And if we are listening we will make a list of what we want." Abigail placed her attention on the piece of paper that Carlton had on his lap turned upside down.

"I know he did. I was there." Carlton turned the paper upright and he had his pencil ready. He had already begun before they had come inside his room.

"Did you put Ice cream on the list?" Ghost tried to read from the fancy cursive writing her brother had mastered.

"I've got chocolate and strawberry," Carl replied. He knew what the favorites were for his siblings.

"I was thinking chocolate chip cookies. Me and Billie Joe want cookies and more potato chips."

"Do you think he has enough money for all that?" Ghost glanced at her two sisters as if they had the answer to her question before she put her attention on her brother to possibly have a response.

"He didn't say there was a limit."

"What do you think, Uncle Charlie would say about it?"

"Uncle Charlie would say it's okay, I think. I'm not going downstairs to ask him either, but I think he would say it is okay to be greedy the first time because how else we are going to know our limit."

"Sounds like something Uncle Charlie would tell us." Ghost was the only one that vocally considered the possibility since Carlton spent the most time with him doing boy chores.

"What do you have on the list so far?"

"Milk. Cereal..."

"Not any kind of Cereal like Granny has Mama buy. Cornflakes with the sugar on it is what we want. Not the plain kind. I hate the plain kind."

"I would like to try those Fruity Pebbles, like in the commercial."

"I would like to try the chocolate cereal and pop tarts. Never had it and would like to taste it."

Carl began to add those items he had on the list before going back to reading what he had that consisted of brown sugar, eggs, bread, bologna, cheese, milk, bacon, sausage...

* * *

A/N: Summary

Yes. This is weaving the sex with now and years ago. The mentioning of Michonne versus Suzanne and Rick versus Sinclaire is indicating who was present in the moments of whatever is happening. It is done intentionally and will factor in as the story goes on if you choose to continue with reading.

A/N: I have been meaning to update this for three weeks and have had so much going on in R/L where I am working longer hours...Ughh...and that I kept purposely delaying posting this without reviewing for clarity. My apologies.

If you have lost interest, I understand. If you are ever bored at least you know this is something you can come back to read and hopefully enjoy in all it's 'uncouth' goodness.


	27. Chapter 27

_"There's never going to be someone else," he says, shaking his head. "You've wrecked me. I wouldn't be any good to anybody now—except for you."_  
 _― Emm Cole, The Short Life of Sparrows_

* * *

 _Forever was spent without thought of the sun setting or rising._

Rick realized he had begun this journey a long time ago. Understanding clearly the bond was elastic knot tied and always had been to this particular person. It was unbreakable. This was different on so many levels and difficult to comprehend. What they shared together they had never shared with another then and now. The road to intimacy was something he had never experienced with anyone but her.

Across his bed in his parent's home, she slept facing him with the side of her face buried in his pillow. He felt compelled to touch her as he watched her dream, starting at her temple tracing downward along her face. It was the beginning of what he had never done before and that act helped to produced another and another.

Her eyes began to flutter open and he watched the smile that grew upon her lips. Soon it was his turn. He didn't freeze up from her touch, allowing her to explore places that were once touched or taken against his will when he was younger. Touch.

Retraining his damaged mind and allowing his body to relax to touch was a feat in itself and for her too. His breathing shallow, his body burned by the fingertips, and palms of a female hand. The onset of delirium as desire began to build, his senses became inflamed, embolden by it all. He began to want more from the girl who had recently turned 18yrs old and who was just as timid with initiating it.

This was one of the rumors shared from the cheering squad. Michonne was his first experience when he was 22yrs old. The Cheering was so loud for him to proceed, for him to lose his virginity it caused Sinclaire to feel like he was literally drowning with want of more from the girl who he was crazy about. Suzanne.

Rick was no longer timid after what seemed like hours of intense foreplay. Fooling around had all begun unexpectedly hours later in his bedroom while his parents fretted. He didn't realize that they were the ones that eventually closed the door to his bedroom while he and she were having consensual sex for the first time in their lives.

Yes, this was one of the rumor's shared from the cheering squad. Michonne was his first experience years ago. He knew it to be a fact watching her now, 10 years later, rotating her hips with the palm of her hand placed firmly on his chest for balance.

That young girl had vanished. She didn't exist anymore. Instead there was this most beautiful woman causing him to glue aspects together of his true identity. This very woman on top of him, riding his dick while the children settled into their beds upstairs was everything. Everything. It was truly in the way she was working her hips, causing a wild frenzy of Honey Bees to buzz and zap every alter into the next room if not into oblivion.

Rick was clinging to a fist full of bed sheets to prevent himself from touching Michonne. The fear that if he did touch her that she might stop was plausible. Actively, he tried to not participate. He relished in the visual of her enjoying herself. Watching was everything, while lying beneath Michonne.

Rick fought to keep his back flat against the mattress. His legs were moving of their own volition. He was indecisive whether to keep them closed, opened or to bend at the knee. He wanted to flip her over. He also wanted to buy a new mattress as the squeak began to crescendo the more she rocked above him.

A sound left her lips. Those full luscious lips that he wanted to take and place his against and kiss her passionately. If she didn't slow down he was going to cum. It wasn't going to take much longer for it to happen now that she was making more sounds. He had to fight it, and he tried to focus on what type of mattress would be suitable for this endeavor and then the stain nearest the ceiling above them. Oh, and then she began to pinch her own nipples. That sight had Rick beyond his threshold. The way she was bouncing up and down on top of him and the sight of his hardened member slick with her juices from between her legs had him ready to spill over. It was powerful when he exploded inside of her.

She moaned and slowed. Her hand was balled into a fist upon his chest. Her orgasm drowned out the long-stifled growl that reverberated throughout his throat and chest at practically the same time. Soon she fell drained atop of him before eventually moving off to her side of the bed falling fast asleep.

Yes, this would be the perfect place to die, Rick decided to himself. Perfect.

* * *

"What are you doing Uncle Charlie?"

Granny turned on the light in the kitchen to make it more brighter in the room. She could see much more clear the old man seated at the kitchen table alone. Her morning routine was to get up and have the breakfast started.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Granny?" Uncle Charlie responded back.

"I'm going to make oatmeal, and you are already eating." Granny scolded.

"Yes indeed, I am. Not often we have fried chicken. Plenty left-overs of it. Decided to have it for my breakfast."

"Breakfast is oatmeal. How you think you've been able to live so long?"

"Well, this is likely the way I would want to die." Uncle Charlie mused, lining up the clean chicken bones on the napkin.

"You keep it up! when the chicken is all gone you going to be looking for my oatmeal."

"Not when there is no brown sugar."

"I don't know how many times I must be worried about it. I don't need sugar to eat oatmeal and you need to start getting used to it anyhow. I worry about sugar and I got to worry my self now about that stranger bringing soda and Chips up in here for the kids. I just don't know what to make of it all. One hand it's a blessing and in another hand it could be luring."

"I thought luring is done with candy, Granny?"

"Not with the sophisticated ones."

"Well in my humble opinion I think he is following the list."

"What list?"

"The list the kids made."

"I don't want to hear about no list. Kids letting the devil know their weakness is what I call it." Granny shuffled on over to the stove where the empty black pot sat. She picked it up to take it over to the sink to fill it up with water.

"Or it could be simple needs waiting to be met by A Daddy if you ask me." Uncle Charlie gave his opinion with the simple reply.

"What kind of advertisement did Michonne put up on the internet? A Handyman or A Daddy?"

"Well, I never got a chance to see it and if I did, I would of had boy child read it to me."

"We've been dealing with Michonne pretty steady. I pray every night that we can keep it that way. Scared my soul when she got out that car wearing Suzanne's flower dress. Looking every bit like she came fresh out of a flower bed that you find around that white picket fence in front of Praise God Baptist Church. Amen she did."

"Michonne in a dress." Uncle Charlie marveled remembering the sight that only gave him relief when he too realized he was dealing with Michonne.

"If it wasn't for that mean look on her face, I wouldn't have known any better." Granny offered.

"We keep like we been doing, Granny. We keep like we been doing. You got the shotgun put away, I say all things should be okay."

"I checked on the kids after Michonne put them to bed last night. Ghost says we are going to the laundromat."

"How you getting there?"

"Craigslist man."

"He is not Craigslist, Granny."

"Then who he be?"

"You sure you ain't beat me to become senile first?"

"I'm only going to trust what I hear with my own two ears. Right now I believe he is a stranger plucked right off the California streets by Suzanne at some point in time. Might have been right after the Price is Right. I don't know the story of it all but somehow she tricked that man to be here amongst us. I promise you that. And if Sheriff Herschel come here for any reason about a kidnapping of a white man, I will be the first to blame it on Suzanne."

"Got him talking about being a slave and you talking about his possible kidnap." Uncle Charlie shook his head and was ready to dismiss it all in order to enjoy one more chicken thigh if only he could find one.

The tick, tick of the gas stove finally lit.

"Must I spell it out to you?" Uncle Charlie wiped his finger tips on the napkin.

Granny began to start orchestrating her responses with the stirring spoon for the Oatmeal.

"I reckon not when you don't even know how to read or spell your own name, Uncle Charlie."

Granny turned the knob up to get the water boiling in the pot. It didn't normally take long for the process due to the water that came out the sink was scalding hot. She went to the cupboard to find the oatmeal.

"Been awhile since we could get things clean." Uncle Charlie thought out loud. He took another drumstick from the bucket after not locating a thigh.

"Can't wait for that washing machine. I just can't wait. Not excited to spend time at no laundromat when there are things that need done around here. Plus keeping an eye on the kids that will be left for you to tend to."

"I got boy child to help." Uncle Charlie was referring to Carlton.

"Yes. Boy child will be here but you need to be aware of the devilment that could take the hands of the children to lead them to burning the house down or harming themselves."

"These kids got more sense than you give them credit for. Not like how I grew up."

"We practically had to raise ourselves, Uncle Charlie back in the day. Now today, I need you to go in that floorboard, Uncle Charlie. I'm going to need some money get some real laundry detergent. I am not using dish soap. Detergent. Don't care what you say about dish soap is no different than detergent. I need clothes detergent."

"Never let people with no money, who never have their own money, know you got two nickels to rub together. They surely will make it possible that you won't have a dime after a while."

"Don't go in the floorboard handing me no nickels either Uncle Charlie. The amount of washing I need to do is likely 50 dollars, and whatever is left I will carry it back to you."

"What kind of washing are you doing that I got to give _you_ 50.00 dollars? Back in my day do you know how long it would take to earn that kind of money? Is what you telling me for true?"

"For true, Uncle Charlie."

Michonne overheard the conversation as she came into the kitchen. She kissed her Uncle Charlie on the cheek and grabbed a drumstick from the half-full bucket.

"Maybe a little more than that, Uncle Charlie. We want to try and dry the things that we wash unless you want to help hang it all outside on the clothesline when we bring it all back damp if not dripping wet."

Michonne confirmed what her Granny was saying was true by nodding her head when Uncle Charlie looked her way for an answer.

"I have no reason to lie to you, Uncle Charlie. Don't need Michonne's word when my word is just as good." Granny patted her ever handy bible.

"50.00 damn dollars! That is how much I am paying for things to be done around the house is what I am saying and you asking for another fifty just for one thing, and that is for Laundry? 50.00 got to buy more than that."

"Detergent, I told you. Oh, and fabric softener."

"Bounce. The twins don't like when their clothes have static." Michonne added.

"I'm paying for the kids." Rick stepped into the kitchen as he spoke. "I will take care of it. For everybody if I need to and if you want?" Ricks eyes found Michonne's who was trying not to choke while swallowing.

Rick was confused by the silence. He felt the answer to re-animate the threesome to not focus all on him as if he spoke a foreign language was to deflect. He didn't like feeling like he was the oddest thing they had ever seen, so he greeted them. It was something he should have done before he rudely entered the kitchen and jumped into the conversation. This had taken years to learn that eyes staring can always refocus if given something else to think about or examine.

"Good Morning, Uncle Charlie, Granny...Michonne."

A level of shyness struck him by saying her name out loud.

Based on the last two nights he had with her he was feeling different. He felt like he had a renewed sense of purpose. Butterflies were taking flight in the pit of his stomach. He was like a new man with the amount of sex since leaving California.

He heard Granny and Uncle Charlie say Good Morning back, but he was having a moment with his eyes locked on Michonne. He found what he wanted to say next and was glad to have found his voice again.

"I wanted to know what time we were officially heading out?" Rick asked Michonne.

"We need to get the laundry loaded up."

"Wanted to make sure you aren't late for work based on the time."

"Daryl doesn't care about minutes. I just need to show up."

"Is Jasmine Amber Jean ready?" Rick wondered because he didn't see any of the children, when he first made his way to the kitchen.

"Who is Jasmine Amber Jean?" Granny clutched her Bible to her chest with one hand and the other braced the kitchen counter. She felt as if a heavy burden had suddenly come upon her.

"What girl child is he speaking of, Michonne?" Uncle Charlie placed his plum clean chicken bone the napkin.

"Ghost," Michonne informed her Granny and Uncle. She shook her head that it wasn't the name she liked, but it was out of her hands. He had named his daughter and she sensed that he had Suzanne's blessing at some point in the night.

* * *

A/N:

Trying really hard to stay linear. It's so hard!

I failed to point this out and I will do so here...

 **Dissociative identity disorder** , formerly referred to as _multiple personality disorder_ , is a condition wherein a person's _identity_ is fragmented into two or more distinct personality states. People with this rare condition are often victims of severe abuse.

There is also amnesia or very suppressed memories when dealing with people that have been diagnosed with the condition. My portrayal may not be as accurate and I am taking great liberties with the use of imagination.


	28. Chapter 28

"Your eyes tell me everything about you.  
Your words only confirm it."  
 **― Anthony**

* * *

 _"Who did I just make the agreement with that it is only going to be you and me? Rick and Michonne? Michonne and Rick? I don't want to sleep with you Michonne. I don't want to have sex with you. I don't see you like that if that helps."_

What he had said kept looping in her head. There was a sense that he had once said something similar to her before the time in the car. Definitely a time that she couldn't exactly remember but felt sure about. She couldn't get his words out of her head and the desire to wake him to prove that he desired her was developing into a compulsion. A cold shower was needed to shock her senses as she deftly removed herself from the bed while he slept.

Michonne had taken her shower and quickly dressed. She was surprised to run into Rick as she was exiting the bathroom. He wore a look of relief that he could enter and take his turn and not have to wait.

"I didn't know you were gone," Rick whispered upon her exiting.

Michonne wasn't sure why this observation he made was necessary or if he wanted a response because she didn't have one that came to her quickly like everything else. She was in a delayed mental mode.

A few things that she did notice was that he was a sound sleeper and he slept facing her. His warm breathing didn't bother as much as she thought it would and the sex he allowed her was a bonus.

He was a definite liar about not wanting sex. He never said no, even allowing her to undress him last night. The eager look on his face when he put the papers down on the nightstand was evident. He was a calculating liar, Michonne summarized in her mind.

His restraint was a turn on, though. He never tried to kiss her. He didn't try to touch her. He didn't even really move or thrust even though she could feel the swell and his upheaval translated from his loins into her, mixing flagrantly in with her song and aroused dance.

"Did you want me to wake you every time?"

"It would be nice to let me know you are up."

"Rick?" Michonne was suspicious.

"I like to think if this arrangement continues at the pace it has for two nights in a row it is best to give you a warning that I don't know how much longer I can not react to it."

"Why would you react? You told me while we were in the car you didn't want anything from me."

She found her way to put it out there since this was a conversation he wanted to have first thing in the morning and it bothered her that he didn't want anything from her but he would take from Suzanne.

"I didn't know then, what I know now."

"What is it that you know, Rick?"

"Things are true. About me. About you. Us."

"What?"

"The rumors."

"What rumors?"

"Do you want to talk about it now, or when we have more time?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Understand this, Michonne. If you choose to do what I am not against, I am going to actively participate. If you don't want that I suggest that you find another room or locate one for me."

"I want to discuss the rumor, Rick."

"I have to drain a snake."

"A snake?"

"I could have said a pipe but around this house it would be literal." He shut the door on Michonne who didn't walk away until she heard the toilet flush.

* * *

Michonne was lost in thought. She didn't realize that Rick was standing in the doorway of the bedroom that they were sharing watching her undo the two braids from Ghost hair to start brushing it upward into a ponytail. She sat at the foot of the bed while Ghost stood.

"Oww...Ow...ouch." Ghost complained.

Watching the redhead girl with skin the color of paper flinch and cringe was too much for him to endure.

"There isn't a better way?" Rick asked.

Michonne was surprised to see him standing there. He was looking directly at her. His blue eyes seeking to understand as if more could be inferred from more than what was presented on the surface.

"She's tender headed. If she had her way, no one would touch it. It has to be touched, or it would knot and tangle in places."

"I wish I had Abigail and Billie Jo's hair." Ghost began to cry out.

"Abigail and Billie Jo don't have what makes your hair special, Jasmine." Rick offered.

Ghost stopped her sniffling, and Michonne stopped brushing once she was able to get the hair swiftly into a neat ponytail. They both gave Rick their undivided attention.

"My name is-"

"Jasmine Amber Jean," Rick stated.

Ghost had no opinion because her Daddy spoke with so much authority she accepted it. At that moment she was sure she would have allowed Sally if he said that would have been her name.

"Is it okay with you?" Rick didn't expect silence.

"You can still go by Ghost in this house until you decide otherwise. Outside this house when dealing with people, I would much prefer they use what will be your legal name for they have no right to call you by any other that you haven't given them expressed permission to do so. The world doesn't have the same right that it is afforded under this roof. Your name is Jasmine. Jasmine Amber Jean. I have to talk the last name over with your Mama. It is only right you carry my last name, but that is up to your Mama if she has or hasn't done it for the others."

"Do you understand what he is saying to you?" Michonne turned her daughter around to face her. Ghost nodded that she understood.

"Do you like the name Jasmine?" Michonne asked.

Ghost nodded again. She couldn't find her voice but broke into a sob. Michonne held the little girl whose face was buried in her chest. She tried to console her by holding her tightly and rubbing her small back.

It was unclear to Rick if what he spoke was a good thing or a bad thing. His feet led him to close the distance between the two that were at the foot of the bed. He knelt down on both knees to be eye level, placing a hand on Ghost shoulder to get her to turn and to look at him.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Rick spoke honestly to the small girl who wrapped her arms around his neck. he had instinctively hugged her back.

Michonne spoke for Ghost, "She isn't upset, Rick. She's happy."

Rick loosened his hold and asked his daughter, "Are you happy?"

Ghost nodded.

"Why are you happy?"

"Because you came back."

Rick didn't know what to say or how to respond. He glanced over at the ceiling where the water stain was peeling away the wallpaper from the wall along with some of the plaster. He was going to cry too and without a way to stop the dam that was threatening to break a tear or two slipped by the guards who were reluctantly activated to keep the emotions as subdued as possible. The cheering squad sat quietly, encouraged by the moment.

"Alright then, Jasmine. Tell everyone that I, Mama said, to get their clothes out on the porch. Linen, sheets, pillowcases. Everything!" Michonne tried to change the mood.

"Okay, Mama." Ghost allowed her Daddy to take a small pack of Kleenex he found in his unpacked luggage to dab at her tears.

Rick wasn't prepared for the magnitude of-everything to wash, but he didn't let that show when he quickly refocused on his little Jasmine Amber Jean with the fiery red hair done up nice. Her swollen red eyes took a slight back seat to the beautiful smile she had given him before another quick hug. She ran out the room shouting, "Mama said..."

* * *

"What's wrong with him Michonne?" Uncle Charlie stood on the porch next to Michonne. Granny and Ghost were in the backseat of the running car.

"He's not used to smelling what we have become accustomed. Nothing more."

Uncle Charlie was worried about the white man that had walked off more than 50 yards away from the car that had the laundry piled in the trunk. A second trip to get the rest off the porch was needed since Rick refused to have it in the back seat.

"You may have to leave him here." Uncle Charlie suggested to Michonne with her arms folded.

For a split second, Michonne was worried the man that was in their lives was going to keep walking. She didn't care that he was still dry heaving five minutes later from where he stood 50 or so yards away. All she knew was that if he had left the property on foot, she would have told Granny and Ghost to get out the car because she didn't need any witnesses of her taking that very car to run him plumb over. She would leave his body in a nearby field with all the piss clothes to cover him up. She had it planned and he better had thank his lucky stars he stopped when he did.

The sight had Carlton worried, and when he saw that his Daddy stopped walking, he ran after him to make sure he was okay.

Rick was trying to find the energy to stand up straight. He was hunched over. His hands rested on his knee as he decided to take the much needed fresh air into his lungs. His nostrils still burned from the inhalation of marinated piss that he and Michonne loaded into the trunk of his rented BMW.

"Are you okay?" Carlton eased up beside his Daddy who acknowledged him by ruffling his hair.

"No." Rick squeezed his eyes closed before opening them again.

"Are you going to be okay?" Carlton sought reassurance.

"Who's doing that? Is it only Marty?" Rick motioned his hand to the car that waited in the distance.

"No. Gladys and Knight too. They are scared to go to the bathroom at night with you here in the house. Marty just gets too excited and pees all over himself a lot. It's just them-but Marty mostly. He hides most of his things."

"Well, it has to come to an end." Rick declared.

"Mama has been working on it, but it has been a slow process."

"Well, Daddy's here. Shit's got to stop." Rick's hand rested on his hip.

"I can tell them-"

"No. I will. I have yet to set eyes on Gladys and Knight before they run off into the wind or around the corner. All this time I thought it would be your Mama to kill me. Who would have thought it would be the smell of piss to practically knock me to my knees?"

Carlton couldn't help the smile that threatened to break free. He said he was their _Daddy_. From his lips to Carlton's ears, he heard it.

Confirmation.

* * *

A/N: The beginning of this chapter is before Michonne goes in the kitchen where she find Uncle Charlie eating the bucket of chicken and Rick entering offering to pay for everyone's laundry. I guess this is how to look at how I write. A chapter is presented or conversations beforehand or relayed after the fact. I am about to full blown give up linear. It is hard as hell and it is slowing my writing down to a snail pace. I will try again on another story. Waving white flag.

I failed to point this out and I will do so here...

 **Dissociative identity disorder** , formerly referred to as _multiple personality disorder_ , is a condition wherein a person's _identity_ is fragmented into two or more distinct personality states. People with this rare condition are often victims of severe abuse.

There is also amnesia or very suppressed memories when dealing with people that have been diagnosed with the condition. My portrayal may not be as accurate and I am taking great liberties with the use of imagination.


	29. Chapter 29

"No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a little girl. All little girls should be told they're pretty, even if they aren't."  
 **― Marilyn Monroe**

* * *

Daryl was standing in the open garage when his Deja Vu moment was happening to him. The feeling of Deja Vu is like an eerie experience when it all comes to fruition. More so when the bearded guy in the BMW eventually got out.

Daryl's attention focused on the woman who was dressed like Michonne. He found this to be an incredible sight that had never happened, EVER.

WHAT. IN. THE. HELL! How did Michonne get Suzanne in her clothes? If this was possible then...

Daryl had no answers, but he could _now_ comprehend the magnitude of such a thing.

The not knowing who the fuck you were dealing with was unfathomable until it stood before him. Especially, if Onne was ever wearing a Sunday Dress and not his usual coveralls. Like finding Onne sitting in the back of the shop in one of Suzanne's floral dresses, watching gay porn with Eugene. He wondered if he had spoken this moment into existence.

 _Oh My GOD_! Now, he had a raging mad lunatic with a bowleg strut coming after him with no _fucks_. Yeah...

Michonne didn't think to react. The conflict was beyond her scope to know why and the scene instantly activated Suzanne. Sinclaire revealed himself before the car could go into park good. Luckily Suzanne wasn't in the passenger seat but standing outside the car eventually grabbing at his arm to slow him down.

"What'd I tell you about this, Suzanne?"

"I am not-."

"This motherfucker, I am going to kill today. He has you working here against my wishes? Against everything we talked about? Everything? You _can't_ tell _me_ he doesn't want you for himself. I'm going to kill him." He was headed towards Daryl.

Daryl took off running to get his crowbar.

"What's going on, Granny?" Ghost propped herself up to see out the window.

"Revelations baby. Revelations." Granny shook her head watching Michonne morph into a screaming, frantic Suzanne.

"When they get back in the car. You stay quiet you hear me? Do as your Mama has always told you to do. Watch and listen. Details are important to know who you dealing with. You know how to react. Right now we need scripture because two demons are let loose among us."

"Uncle Charlie says it isn't Demons, Granny. Uncle Charlie says it is Mama finding ways to cope with the bad things."

"Yeah go on and listen to your Uncle Charlie. I am anointed and blessed with the Holy Ghost." Granny patted her bible on her lap.

Granny knew this had the makings of Suzanne. Suzanne was written all over this. If they weren't so far from home, Granny would have gladly gotten out the car and walked back. A spectacle was happening right before her very eyes. She opened her bible and began to read.

"What in the hell, Michonne?" Daryl armed himself with the crowbar.

"Sinclaire!" Suzanne shrieked.

"I am going to kick his ass once and for all, Suzanne. I am. You belong to me, and he needs to understand that."

"You can't hurt him, Sinclaire."

"I told you, I didn't want you working for him."

"I don't work for him. Michonne works for him and sometimes Onne, but I don't. I wouldn't do that to you, Sinclaire."

"You don't seem to understand, Suzanne. I don't want you and all of YOU to work here. I blame him for the shit that happened to you. I blame him and his people down in the God damn Hollar. He didn't do shit to protect you. He didn't! Punk Fucker."

"Sinclaire, baby, Daryl went and got help. He got my Uncle Charlie. He did. He ran and got him."

Sinclaire wasn't listening. He was enraged. He had a version of events that he believed to be true and it was told to him years ago. He swore on his life that he was going to kill everyone involved in luring Suzanne down to the Red Neck Hollar. He pledged he would, and the idea that she would work for him made his stomach turn. He had to kill Daryl if not hurt him good. He stepped forward.

"You don't want none of this." Daryl was ready to swing the crowbar like a baseball bat if Sinclaire made one more move.

It didn't slow Sinclaire.

"I will fuck you up, Sinclaire," Daryl warned.

Daryl swung. Sinclaire ducked and weaved.

They fought. Blood. Bruised knuckles. The sounds of breaking bone. Michonne's official termination. Onne's formal dismissal if he/she was listening. Suzanne barred from the premises. All this was done before Sinclaire had choked Daryl, the Garage Owner out.

The two got back in the car with Sinclaire opening the door for Suzanne.

Granny closed her bible.

"Did you kill him?" Granny knew the devil in the driver seat all to very well.

The dusty dreadlocks were gone. The hair on his face kept him concealed pretty good. Granny had a firm belief that most white people looked exactly alike. There were two that she could recognize in a white man's line up and that was Sheriff Herschel and Daryl. Now, she had an older version of Sinclaire ingrained in her brain. He would be the third.

"No."

"Good. Now take us on to the Laundromat." Granny instructed.

Rick noticed his bruised knuckles as he reached to put the car in reverse. He was surprised by it, and the pain began to announce it's arrival. He had a busted lip, and he was bleeding at the temple. Suzanne was dabbing the blood. She took his face into her hands to make him look at her so she could tend to him before the blood reached his jaw.

Tenderness had him bewildered when it came from his passenger.

After they had finally arrived at the laundromat Granny remained inside while he sought oxygen. Fresh air from holding his breath again. Granny and Ghost were indoors tending to the laundry while he stood outside with Suzanne.

Suzanne was still fussing over him and the bruises that were developing on his face and jaw. He permitted this, leaning his back against the driver-side door.

"I have to tend to this when we get home. I can't have you looking like you got beat up and no one to tend to your wounds. I thought you may need stitches, but it stopped bleeding. Maybe we can get some disinfectant when we go to the grocery store. They have a section to buy it and some bandages. I plan to take good care of you."

"Michonne?"

There was a pause. Momentarily he thought he glimpsed her, but the broad smile indicated she was long gone. It was just Rick and Suzanne.

"She's pissed off. Pissed off that you know some things. She's pissed off that she's fired too."

"Why would she be pissed off at me?"

"You are supposed to have control of Sinclaire. You proved to her you don't."

"Well, how is it she doesn't have control of you?"

"My Sinclaire means the world to me. I will not allow her to keep me away from him. You were not to ever drive Michonne to work. Ever. I couldn't get Michonne to listen. Her mind was on laundry without her participation and sex without _your_ participation."

"She's thinking about sex with me?"

"Obsessing over it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"She likes having sex with me?"

Suzanne shrugged.

"I mean-"

"Michonne hasn't had sex in a very long time. Well, she can't actively participate if it is touching and kissing and I am usually pushed forth, but I don't participate if it isn't Sinclaire. I won't, and she ends up considered frigid." Suzanne was relaying in a roundabout way the interactions with Mike without mentioning the man's name.

"Frigid?" Rick questioned. It was the last word in the Webster Dictionary that he would ever use to describe Michonne who was hot and fiery on top of him last night.

"I'm hot, and she is either lukewarm or icy cold. She's warming up to you, but I have to get to the bottom of what was said this morning."

"I can't believe she considers me. That she talks about me." This was surprising to Rick. He was curious.

"She talks about me too, you know. She talks about how I just spread my legs to any man, and it's not true. I only have been with one well maybe two people now, and that's you and Sinclaire. No one else. She's mad about it. Says she never slept with Sinclaire. She thinks Sinclaire came on to her this morning."

"Why would she think that?"

Suzanne shrugged. She didn't know the answer, and it had her fuming with jealousy. She tried to garner the truth from his blue eyes that indicated a storm was brewing inside of his mind. Warfare was being waged. The battle was in regards to constraints and restraints.

"Woman, you won't be happy unless it's just you and me."

"Were you trying to come on to Michonne this morning or not?"

"I gave her a warning is all." Sinclaire moved a dread to fall behind Suzanne's shoulders.

"Sinclaire, I promise you if you have sex with Michonne, I won't forgive you. I won't."

"This Jackass is about to stroke out. Cardiac arrest if he doesn't exert some energy into it. He dies then I die. Do you understand? We share the same damn body but of different minds. I need Michonne to stop fucking around with him. He has the mind to stay for the long haul you know. He does but he is married, and there is a part of him still on Lori believe it or not. If I knew where his phone was I would throw it in the River just in case she calls wanting to take him back. If he tries to go back, I would more than likely stand in front of a freight train."

"Don't say that Sinclaire. I would die too, knowing it. I would die of a broken heart."

"Reason why we have to focus on our kids, Suzanne. I miss all of them, and sometimes I sneak a peek at them. I let them know I am their Daddy before he tells them he is just a friend of a friend that had a cousin that knew their Daddy."

"Michonne would kill him." Suzanne gasped.

"He's a dead man either way. Michonne will kill him, I will kill him, or his heart will explode. For me, you don't have to be the last woman on earth for me to want to be with you...You are the only woman on earth. He is beginning to see that if not much else. Death or you."

* * *

Granny and Uncle Charlie sat on the porch taking in the sight of groceries being hauled into the house. More bags than Uncle Charlie ever imagined and Granny couldn't gauge how much everything could have possibly cost. All of the kids were at work unloading the car. The man that was taking charge made sure the elders of the house didn't have to lift a finger. So they sat together on the two porch rockers.

All of the kids were excited about groceries and the amount. They didn't mind at all the repeated trips.

All of the children except for Gladys and Knight who were in the kitchen peeking inside the bags that were on the counters, kitchen table and eventually the floors. They discovered chocolate chip cookies and took the whole pack to their bedroom. They were out of sight for a long while.

"Told me no more beans." Granny clutched her bible close to her chest before resting it on her lap.

"He told you that?"

"He did."

"Well, I'll be." Uncle Charlie remarked.

"Told me if I wanted beans to make a small pot for myself only."

"He told you that?"

"He did."

"Well, I'll be." Uncle Charlie shook his head. He was amused, and he tried to not let it show.

"For true."

"He is got us stocked up real nice it looks to me. If he followed the list, we would have just potato chips and soda."

"He had a new list. He had Michonne with him too. She knows what's needed around here."

"You say, Suzanne, made an appearance?"

"She did. A mess. Just a mess of a person."

"How so."

"She loves a man too hard. Things I did back in the day, and it's not good to love a man more than you love yourself."

"I would put my floorboard money, if I was a gambling man, mind you, on that man loves hard too."

"That there is Sinclaire, Uncle Charlie."

"What you say?"

"He is. He's back."

"Well, I'll be. For true?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Yes, indeed."

"You wouldn't believe it unless you saw it with your own two eyes, Uncle Charlie. I promise you that."

"Daryl business?"

"Broad daylight."

"Should we expect, Sheriff Herschel you think?"

"If he ain't here in the next couple of days, I suppose not."

"Do you think he's dead?"

"Says he didn't kill him."

"Sinclaire, you say?"

"He's back. He is."

"Well, I'd be. He's _the_ Daddy!"

"Always have been."

"How's that?"

"I am quite sure I don't need to explain fornication to you, Uncle Charlie."

"Now we can agree that Mike is not their Daddy?" Uncle Charlie ventured to find more common ground with Granny.

"Agreed. Not sure if Michonne is aware or not."

* * *

The laundry turned and turned in the machines. White suds grew and were washed away, taking the grime, earth, and human excretions down the drain. He watched each cycle spin him into a trance that was only broken by a voice declaring something about him that was true and profound.

"You're different." Ghost hand was out offering her Daddy some skittles that she got from holding her hand carefully under the candy dispenser after putting the quarter in the slot.

Rick hesitated to take any. Not sure how sanitary it was to accept candy from a child or from a dispenser located in a laundromat. He felt the sharp knock inside of his head from Sinclaire. He took two pieces and plopped them in his mouth. The headache disappeared once he let go of trying to time a stomach ache from germs that he may have ingested.

"Naw. I'm the same." Rick lied. He didn't want word to get to Michonne that he wasn't staying on script.

"Mama has always told us to watch people. Watch her mostly. I didn't know until Granny said to watch you too."

"What are you looking to see?"

"What makes you different. Like if Mama is in a dress we know what to expect versus when she is dressed normally. Mama in a dress is normal to all of us except for Andre. He says she is most his Mama when she is not in a dress. I don't understand what he means by it, and he isn't old enough to express it like Uncle Charlie explains to me."

"How old are you again?"

"6 years old."

Rick tried to remember when he was six years old and if he had thoughts that consisted about anything other than Legos or transformers. He realized he couldn't remember a thing about the time he was her age other than the color of legos and bending Transformers...

"Are you changing again?" Ghost asked. She was watching his demeanor.

"I was lost in thought, not changing."

"You still lost?"

"Only when I look at your Mama standing over there folding the sheets."

"She wants to know what we are talking about."

"What we talk about is between us. If your Mama wants to know, she can come over and listen."

"Then how is the laundry going to get folded, Rick?" Michonne heard him as if she was standing right there.

"She wants you to help." Ghost suggested.

"Is that so?"

"Yep."

"She just told me to sit down. To get away from her."

"Because you are staring at her."

"I'm not staring at your, Mama. Your Mama stares at me I look back at her to let her know I am aware."

Ghost began to smile at the interaction between her mother and the man that was her father.

"I find your Mama hard to look at still. I find it hard to communicate my thoughts on matters that are most important but it's only temporary. I am still trying to get my baring."

"You scared to look at my Mama?" Ghost noticed how her Daddy would eventually look-a-way.

Rick nodded.

"Why?"

"Because she is so beautiful." Rick admitted a truth.

Ghost considered what her father was saying and kept it in her mind to get an idea of what fear resembled when he interacted with her mother who she thought beautiful too but not scary.

"She's not going to hurt you. Even when her face isn't friendly, she still has love when she touches. Her voice still has love too."

"You know a lot about your Mama?"

"I do."

"She knows a lot about you?"

"Yes."

"Like what?"

"I don't like my hair combed. I like to talk. Mama says I talk a lot and it is a good thing to express one's self and to express for others that can't fight back. I have a big voice, and sometimes I have to remember to use my indoor voice and not my outside voice when I am indoors. She says I am the most beautiful of them all, but she says that to all of us girls. Sometimes the way she says it to me has a special meaning, and I know that it is true."

"How do you know that it is true?"

"Because I believe it too."

Rick swallowed. He thought he was going to choke on emotions. It was the first time that he actually saw what made her even more unique and it intrigued him that she had freckles that he hadn't acknowledged before. He was relieved to find that when his emotions were presented to the cheering squad, they agreed there was a special place in his heart reserved for her. A special place for Jasmine Amber Jean.

* * *

A/N: I am so amused by All I Need. I may post another chapter but I wanted to go back to Scream Into My Pillow.

 **Side note:**

Fleshing out Michonne? I see this a certain way as in her mind she is detached. The sex did not connect her to Rick and if you felt the disconnect that was what I was hoping for. She is driven by finding pleasure at this point or to recreate an experience and I will go into that as her character evolves or more is revealed.

Fear of white men. White men desiring her she fears. That fear paralyzes her if it is known. She can function around white men just don't try to woo (seduce) her. From Rick, she takes what has been taken from her because he allows it. Michonne is turned on by Dominance and Rick projecting the inability to participate. Weird I know but a fascinating aspect to think about.

I keep forgetting this is fanfiction and shouldn't be so deep but I digress.


	30. Chapter 30

"It's love when someone can touch you without using their hands."  
― Faraaz Kazi

* * *

Rick exited the car.

The second trip to get the rest of the laundry off the porch left his eyes burning, and nostril hairs scorched to never possibly grow again, but he survived it. He endured the wretched smell of Urine, musk, and funk.

Two trips to the Laundromat and two trips to bring it all back and three trips into town. The third trip he found Michonne was officially in the passenger seat by the time they were nearing the grocery store. Suzanne had vanished but not without a reminder for him to remember bandages and disinfectant. They finally arrived to the grocery store, Herschel's Market.

She grabbed the grocery list from the dashboard and got out the car.

"What are you mad about?"

Rick waited for her to walk with him toward the front of the store. He was getting a few looks and stares. Rick had thought it was from the bruises and cuts from the fight earlier. His face did look like he had lost a war of some kind. The man from California didn't care what they thought. What he was concerned about was what could be bothering the mother of seven of the eight children. She had him on a consistent ignore.

"I'm not mad, Rick."

"You sure about that?"

Michonne realized that this was something he wanted to talk about. He wanted to discuss it, and she wasn't going to hold it in much longer anyway because one more ' _H_ _ello'_ he made to a stranger was going to take her over the edge. She needed to understand it. His retrospect she would consider since Suzanne held this man in high regards to being very different from Sinclaire. Suzanne has always said that Rick was better suited for her than Mike.

"So you talk to strangers?" Michonne stood by the closed door of the car wondering if the best way to tell the difference was in the shade of blue that his eyes would turn.

"She said _Hello_."

"They all are trying to talk to you," Michonne informed.

" _Hello_?" Rick reiterated.

All he had said in reply to the redhead woman's greeting when holding the door open for her to come inside the laundromat WAS _Hello_. The attractive redhead had her arms full and she had two children of her own that were riled and ready to cause chaos. He didn't get to say ' _You're welcome_ ' to her ' _Thank you for being such a gentleman'_ because Michonne had nearly pushed him out the open door he was holding while he allowed the redhead to walk inside.

"Where it starts. How it starts." Michonne informed him as if he was a child that could get snatched. He realized she wasn't aware that he has been snatched and held by her and eight children but he dared not say it. He didn't recall if he ever actually said Hello to Michonne which would prove her logic flawed.

" **A** _greeting_?" Rick insisted.

"You aren't a good example." Michonne became dismissive.

"A good example?"

"For the kids."

"I would like to think I am a better option than Sinclaire. A damn good example. I don't lie, and I don't cheat..." Rick realized he was a liar and a cheater the moment he spoke those words. He would gladly allow Michonne on top of him again tonight. If she was willing to ride him, he was more than willing to ride and hopefully harder as evening would soon approach. "Well, I-I'm an example. Not necessarily a bad one."

Michonne had put Rick back on ignore while they walked into the grocery store together.

They were standing in the fresh fruit and vegetable aisle. Michonne was eyeing collards, and Rick's attention was on the big leafy lettuce.

"I thought that I would cook tonight," Rick spoke to the back of Michonne's head.

"Cook?" She turned to question him.

"Yeah."

"What are you going to tell Granny?"

"That I'm cooking," Rick replied.

"But she does the cooking."

"Not tonight. I am giving her every night and breakfast off until she figures out another menu or she dies an old lady's death."

Michonne fought a smile that was threatening to take over her face. She stood in front of the grocery cart one finger locked in the corner of the basket leading but allowing Rick to gauge where to steer since he was pushing the cart. She pulled, he drove. They had absolutely nothing in the grocery basket.

"I think the kids would like something other than beans and cornbread." Rick suggested the obvious.

"How did you figure that?" Michonne was convinced again that he was a simpleton.

"A stab in the dark."

Michonne handed over the list giving Rick another chance to scan the items of what the kids would like. The I would Like List didn't contain any fruit or vegetables.

"I don't know, Rick."

Michonne was hesitant about the idea of Rick taking over the kitchen, plus she didn't know if he could actually cook. There weren't any whispers in her head that informed her whether or not he could nor that he couldn't. In her head, no one had any dealings with Rick on a level to know what he can or can't do well.

"I'm not sure, why you are unsure, but I would like to have spaghetti tonight. Salad, spaghetti, garlic bread, and dessert, like Tiramisu."

"Uncle Charlie doesn't eat spaghetti."

"Well, there will be salad, garlic bread, and Tiramisu for him to choose from."

Michonne thought for a second to tell Rick why, Uncle Charlie didn't eat spaghetti, but the whole thought of having to speak about it made her queasy. The reasoning could prevent her from ever eating Spaghetti if she thought long and hard about it. She didn't tell Rick.

"Do you like Spaghetti?"

From the look on Michonne's face, he wondered if she liked spaghetti. If Michonne would have said no, it would have been his only reason to change the menu of what he would have prepared for the family.

"Honestly, I am partial to anything that is different." Michonne shrugged.

"Good."

Rick, now had a smile threatening to break free. "Different is good." He wanted to keep the communication going between him and Michonne.

"How many heads of lettuce do you think?" Michonne questioned.

"Two. But it would probably make more sense to buy it already bagged with the strips of carrots."

"Granny doesn't eat things that are in a bag nor will she eat anything that has been canned."

"Granny can make herself a pot of beans." Rick spoke with finality.

"I am going to have to call her. Around this time she is soaking the beans to cook."

Michonne began to pull out her phone when a person she like the least approached with a giant happy smile that matched her syrupy sweet, cheerful voice.

"Hi, Michonne!"

"Hi, Jessie." Michonne response was as expressionless as her face.

The cute petite blonde had her eyes on Rick. Michonne made sure to redirect Jessie's attention.

"What do you want, Jessie?"

Jessie placed her attention back on Michonne before going back to admiring the man that was either in an accident or fight based on the damage to his face.

"Who do you have here?" Jessie inquired.

"Sinclaire."

"I am not ..." Rick was about to deny, but the icy stare from Michonne had him reconsider.

"I remember you! I thought you looked familiar. You use to have dreadlocks. Everyone that worked here thought you were mysterious. Most of us Cashiers had a crush on you. All of us except for Michonne. Right Michonne?"

Rick's parents had a couple of pictures of him with dreads. It was a miserable time in his life. He still hoped that those photos would never resurfaced and that any memory of the younger version of him wouldn't be recalled other than with Suzanne.

Jessie was curious about the heavy silence but she didn't let that deter her. She looked from Rick to Michonne and back at Sinclaire.

"Hi, my name is Jessie. I don't think we have ever been officially introduced."

Rick was tongue-tied. He felt a metaphorical chokehold around his esophagus, and the smile that played on Suzanne's lips indicated she was pleased by that and the voice on the loudspeaker requesting Jessie to go away to check out the customers at the register was music to her ears.

"Oh, Gosh. I have to get back to work. It was great seeing you, Sinclaire. I hope to see you-"

"Go. Go, Jessie. Nothing more to see here."

Jessie took her eyes off of Rick and realized the smile turned to instant displeasure was something she better heed if nothing else in life. "Okay. Bye."

"You seem, pleased." Rick found his voice once Jessie was gone.

"I am."

"I wonder what she remembers about, Sinclaire?"

Michonne halted the grocery cart from moving forward.

"Don't wonder about it out loud. All I need is for Suzanne to appear and I lose this job too."

Michonne was unaware that momentarily, Suzanne had made an appearance and vanished. If she was ever made aware this would be troublesome news for Michonne.

Rick knew instantly he was dealing with Michonne because she had pushed the cart back into him. He was startled by the act of aggression but not surprised by it. She had warned him about her tendencies.

"I think the way that Sinclaire is crazy about you, I mean Suzanne, it is highly unlikely for him to worry about anyone else."

"Just your wife. She should be his only worry, huh?" Michonne reminded Rick.

This was her mic drop. She took the opportunity to walk away while Rick continued to look on wearing his usual stunned expression. Michonne was unsure where the jealousy was coming from and why it was bothering her to the degree that she had to walk away from him to grab her own cart. It was safer that way. She had left him with the list. Her plan was to cruise the aisles for cleaning supplies.

An hour later, Michonne found Rick pulling an additional cart. She was surprised to see him in the aisle that had personal items for hygiene that included contraceptives. He had a box of condoms that he was studying with serious contemplation.

"What are you doing?"

His face flushed red with embarrassment. He was tongue-tied.

"I'd asked _you_ a question."

"Condoms. I don't have any, and I thought maybe I should buy a box.

Michonne took a quick glance at the newly acquired cart. Inside the basket he had 10 boxes of Trojans neatly stacked.

" **A** _box_?"

Rick followed Michonne's eyes to the cart. They both avoided eye contact with each other as if they were speaking to the stacked contraceptive.

"How much sex do you think you are going to have?" Michonne ventured with the question. It was the elephant in the grocery store aisle that they were both standing in.

"I'm not sure, but I am open to whatever you want to do." Rick admitted.

"For your information, I don't want to have sex with you," Michonne stated with no room to doubt her statement.

"What?"

Rick instantly gave Michonne his full attention even if he was staring at the side of her face before looking at her cart full of powder detergent and bleach. Lot's and lots of bleach and cleaning supplies in general.

"Now put them all back!" Michonne demanded.

"Well, I would think this would be for Sinclaire, then." Rick was only referencing the box in his hands. The other condoms he was still secretly hoping was for him and Michonne.

"Why? Don't you have control of him, yet?" Michonne was seriously concerned.

"If you have control of Suzanne then I have control of Sinclaire."

Eyeing his swollen face, she realized a few things that his beard couldn't conceal. He _was_ handsome.

The way he obsessively ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration or habit didn't distract from the fact that was beginning to find him oddly attractive. He was less scary, but it didn't abate her fear of him. Fear that gripped her at times because he was attracted to her. She could see his longing and the lustful glances he would steal her way.

Quickly, she denied every single bit of acknowledgment of her very own attraction to him by striking her cart with his. The force she used was enough to bring attention to them if they weren't alone.

"Put all those Condoms back. No more sex." Michonne seethed through clenched teeth.

"Since when?"

"Since now."

"I didn't expect us to get it on in the grocery store aisle, Michonne."

"I don't care what you expect. You are actively participating and anticipating. I don't like it, sir."

" _Condoms_?" Sinclaire was in complete disbelief.

"Put them back!" Michonne insisted.

"Do you want to have another baby?"

"I am not going to have a baby. I am not going to have a baby with a man I don't know."

"Eight kids later you decided this for yourself?" Sinclaire realized he was questioning a very much in denial version of Suzanne.

"Seven kids. Andre is mine." Michonne realized who she was talking to at that very moment and it wasn't Rick. It was like his eyes were scarier blue. His tone curt. His stance domineering. She was chilled by him.

"Well, I am not looking for number nine now that I am here and aware of eight. Eight are mine no matter how you do the math. Do you understand what I am saying to you, Michonne?"

"We need to do a paternity test."

"I think you _may_ actually _like_ being the last to know but, Rick _is_ the Daddy."

"Bullshit. No way I would have allowed Rick near me then. _No_ _way_."

"Then it leaves only one other person."

"Yes. And the father's name starts with a **M**."

" _M_ for _m_ e!"

Sinclaire had no objection or felt any hesitation in getting in Michonne's personal space. She looked like Suzanne even if she didn't act like Suzanne. Sinclaire knew that if she was Suzanne and he was standing all close like he was, she would have kissed the fuck out of him. He would then have to rush and get her home if they didn't hurry and get it on inside the BMW with the grocery still waiting to be packed inside the car. God, he loved that woman.

Michonne was stunned. His pronouncement was like cold water thrown in her face unexpectedly.

"I don't want to hear another damn word about Andre not being mine. He is mine. My DNA. No other. Suzanne would not betray me."

"I am not Suzanne."

"Well, you have a good idea who I am. Trust me when I tell you- ** _I_ **will kill Mike if he comes anywhere near my Suzanne. Do you understand me?"

"He's locked up."

"You pray it stays that way or you get with the program quick. My wife has only been with one man, and there will be no other."

"What program?"

"You got Rick. He wants you to love him even if it is a puzzle on how to love you. Rick wants you to molest him if you want to. Fondle him. He would let you. No one else but you. He is kind of obsessing about it. He knows you don't like participation, but with a little bit of time, you may come around on that and..."

Michonne was tempted to run Sinclaire over with her cart but knew the act would indeed have her fired from the only job that she had left. She was so angry that she knew she would cripple him with the amount of force that she would exert. She then would take a couple of bottles of the bleach and pour it all over him, but she thought better of acting out what she was very tempted to do in public. Instead, she turned her cart and walked away.

All he saw was her perfectly shaped ass. The only way he could describe it was that it was round and _untouchable_. He would give his soul to squeeze it. The way she rushed out of the aisle they were both standing in was mesmerizing. Rick tossed the extra box of condoms in his cart not realizing he too had lost time just a moment ago. He followed Michonne to the register.

...

"MMMmmm in revelations it says, Gets behind me Satan for ye know not the Glory of God. God almighty!" Granny blurted from the kitchen table where she sat. There was a man woman in the kitchen and it was nothing but the devil wearing that Martha Steward Apron.

For Rick, time was creeping into the third evening with his new family. Rick was making adjustments to the kitchen as he prepared dinner. His mind wandered to what activities would occur in the bedroom, and he was looking forward to possibly having her on top of him again. Most thoughts were of Michonne and the many boxes of condoms that he had to snatch from the kids who thought they may be balloons because Carlton took the time to open one. Michonne caught him blowing into the rubber while the girls watched. If the kids weren't witnesses, Rick was certain he was a dead man. He put the condoms in his night stand drawer and went back in the kitchen.

Possible sex was something his mind wanted to think about at length as he stirred the spaghetti sauce. It was a private thought he couldn't entertain for any particular period while interacting with the children who had quite a few questions about the balloons along with Uncle Charlie. Granny sat at the kitchen table with her Bible open, eyes closed as if she was in prayer or in deep meditation.

He was aware of her occasional outburst that startled him if no one else.

"I Rebuke thee in the name of Jesus!"

"Who taught you how to cook like you are an Italian woman?" Uncle Charlie leaned his weight on the kitchen counter furthest from the stove, and the children stood nearest their Uncle Charlie, all six while Michonne went hunting for Glady's and Knight. Rick wasn't aware that they were his audience to an Alter he wasn't aware of, but the ruffled apron he wore was an indication that he wasn't himself for specific periods of cooking when Uncle Charlie made the comment.

Rick paused at the woman part. It caused his eyebrows to furrow a bit, but he responded without insult, "I have been to Italy."

"For what reason?"

"To visit. To also attend a friends art exhibit."

Rick noticed the quizzical faces that didn't know what to make of what he was telling them. He didn't feel moved to continue with the topic without the right questioning for more information. And for a moment he was especially confused to where the high pitched voice he spoke with came from, but it died instantly the second he was aware.

"So you don't use no jars?"

Rick found it hard to face them. He kept his attention on the way the red liquid with meatballs were waiting to smother the noodles once done.

"No. I don't. I cheated with the bags of lettuce. I hope you all will try some salad. I have different dressings since I don't know any of your preferences but the preferred dressing is Italian or the vinaigrette."

Marty was the only one that stood closest, pulling on his shirt to get his attention. He whispered, but everyone could clearly hear him when he asked, "We are going to have dessert first, Daddy?"

Daddy. He has officially been addressed again as Daddy by Marty, and this time there were witnesses.

"There is an order to things, Marty. We will have a salad first then spaghetti and Garlic bread. After that, we have dessert if you have room."

"What kind of dessert is it, Daddy?"

Rick was surprised that Marty had opened the floodgates after the public christening of his name or the way to refer to him, Daddy.

"Oh My God, Rick come and help me, Please!"

The sound of Michonne's voice struck a chord inside of him. His eyes searched for someone that would be responsible enough to stir the sauce so he could obey his summons.

At first, he thought that Michonne may have been upset with him when he spied the empty cookie package and crumbs on the floor. The wall of the foulest odor he felt he whiffed earlier in the day was in extreme competition with what he was inhaling at that very moment.

He almost died several _Alter_ deaths from the smell of diarrhea and piss that hung in the air of the room Glady's and Knight shared. Chocolate Chip Cookies didn't agree with their systems, and their small bodies reacted instantly to an unmoderated introduction.

"Help me, Rick!"

Rick continued to gag and cough. His body was prepared to go into convulsions. The only thing that prevented it was Michonne's demanding voice.

"Help me." Michonne insisted.

"Who's going to help me?" Rick asked.

He was hunched over with his hands resting on his knees. Michonne held a twin up for him to take.

"I am! I have Glady's. I need you to hold Knight."

Rick held the child, feet dangling, and away from him as far as his outstretched arms would allow.

"How do you know? They both look the same?" Rick's eyes were watering. He was in tears from the odor as he tried to remain strong but failing miserably.

"Gladys is a girl and Knight is a boy."

"His hair is just as long as hers. Why?"

"Because it grows?" Michonne ventured an answer to his question. Simpleton. Simpleton.

Michonne had towels wrapped around their bottoms to prevent any more leakage.

"These towels will never be used again, right? They will be set out for trash pick up?"

"We don't have trash pick up. Where do you think you are?"

"Well, shit isn't going to get washed, right? I am not going to the laundromat knowing this is..." His headache was the most painful at that moment.

"Stop talking and let's get them outside," Michonne instructed.

"For what?"

To hose them down." Michonne informed.

"I am up to most things, but one of them isn't hosing my kids down."

"What do you suggest then, Sinclaire?"

"Woman, I don't care about shit particles in the tub as long as we scrub it clean. We had them buy bleach, right?" He was referring to Rick and Michonne who were at the grocery store influenced profoundly by him and Suzanne on the decisions that were made for the family.

"Yes, Sinclaire. It wasn't easy convincing Rick that we needed that many gallons."

"He has no clue what to do with Knight other than to toss him out the window."

Suzanne gasped.'

"-or drop him to the floor. The smell is too much for him and stripping his son bare had someone from the cheering squad bring a Goddamn memory to the surface. He's retreated."

"Who's watching the spaghetti?" Suzanne asked realizing food was left unattended.

"Uncle Charlie is stirring the sauce. Granny is in deep meditation at the table. I hope she has the mind to help even though I told her a piece of my mind about why I didn't buy any bags of bean. A woman that doesn't want food in a plastic bag. I would think that included beans too."

Sinclaire carried his son into the bathroom while Suzanne had a good hold of Glady's. Placing the towels on the floor, clothes peeled from their body and the water on its two-minute burst of cool temperature they put the kids under the shower nozzle and rinsed them good before soaping them with a good lather and cleaning them again before the water became too unbearable.

"What are you crying for, Knight?" Sinclaire asked his son who continued to weep.

The longhaired silky curl boy reached for his mother, still fearful of the man that was drying him off.

"Mama." Knight squeezed open and closed his hand for Michonne to lift him up.

"Your Daddy talking to you, Knight. Tell him what you crying for?"

"If you don't know what you are crying for then tell me why? Can you do that, son?"

"Mama...Pick me up."

"Have I ever hurt you?" Sinclaire wrapped the towel around his son to keep him covered.

Knight pleaded up with his mother who had Glady's wrapped in a clean towel and propped on her hip. He wanted to be up, but he wasn't given an opportunity. Glady's face partially buried in her mother's neck but still able to keep an eye on her brother, feeling his distress as if it was her own.

"Answer your, Daddy." Suzanne pushed.

The voice that responded was almost a whisper, "No."

"I will never hurt you, Knight," Sinclaire promised.

Knight glanced up at his sister and then back at the man that was on his knees, almost eye level if his Daddy wasn't taller in general.

"I won't ever hurt your sister. I am here to protect you and every child in this house. I am here to ensure that things are better than before and the best they can be. I love you and Glady's and do you know why?"

Knight shook his head slowly, not sure if he understood what the strange man was saying to him.

"Because I love your Mama. When we created you and your sister it was because of that love and a little song by Glady's Knight. You want to hear it?"

Knight glanced up at his sister who nodded and spoke his response, though even more shyly, "Yes."

Sinclaire cleared his throat. His blues eyes sincere as was his attempt at singing.

"If anyone should ever write my life story. For whatever reason, there might be. OH, you'll be there between each line of pain and glory. Cause your the best thing that ever happened to me. Ah, you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

The impromptu surprised, Suzanne. It was one of their favorite songs when listening to 8 tracks of Glady's Knight and the Pips at the vintage music store they stumbled upon together before Rick whisked him off to California.

Suzanne began to sing, "Oh, there have been times when times were hard but I always somehow I made it, I made it through..."

Together they continued, and the children were now thoroughly amused at the two who could not sing as well as Granny, and Abigail could.

"Cause for every moment that I spent hurting there was a moment that I spent just loving you..."

* * *

A/N:

I have no idea why I am having a hard time trying to post an update to this story. I keep getting an error unable to convert file. Found a work-around. I am puzzled by this but oh well. I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas! I will comeback to make correction before posting the next chapter.


	31. Chapter 31

"She was the kind of woman a person could die over or kill over."  
― Jacqueline Simon Gunn, What He Didn't See

* * *

'If I were your woman  
And you were my man  
You'd have no other woman  
You'd be weak as a lamb

 **Glady's Knight and the Pips**

* * *

"We were in this perpetual state of grief that came from out of nowhere. Certain songs or sounds were or are triggers. I am positive the song triggered him. Glady's Knight was on the late show singing, IF I Were Your Woman. He was moved to tears. Other times it could be something on television or the Walking Dead especially when there is a scene with the woman that carries a Katana. Other times he would get himself so worked up that he would punch a hole in the wall or go on some tangent talking to himself about how he hated his life and having to watch him try to fuck the pretend wife."

"Sinclaire."

"I'm not sure how I discovered Glady's Knight is a trigger, but it was one of many. He would change from Rick to someone that I didn't recognize. And the things that he would say..."

"You have to keep in mind, Lori that most times it isn't Rick."

"He had said on more than one occasion that he loved someone else and that he couldn't love anyone but her. I had no idea who she was or if she existed. I figured if she did and if she wanted the man with the many faces she would come knocking on the door. She never did at the time. I guess that is what I relied on, counting on the false belief that no woman would want Rick. He was a mental case. Mind you; I fell in love with Rick, years ago. Way before I knew exactly what was different about him or what made him like no one else, not counting his dreadlocks. The day I met him we clicked. A twenty-four-hour whirlwind romance. He took my breath away that day. I knew he was the one. He didn't want to kiss or hold hands, but it was okay because most guys were always trying to paw or get to second base. Not Rick. I didn't see him the next day because he said he had to go to a doctor's appointment."

"He met her there. They met at the doctor's office. I was there because I had to take him or he would never go if he were Sinclaire."

"You know her?"

"He met her as Rick. Only Rick would willingly go to the doctor. He wanted a cure or wanted to believe that he could be normal and whatever Dr. Deanna was offering he was willing to try. He met you, Lori. He met you first. He knew that if he couldn't get his shit together, you wouldn't be interested. Well, he came out of that office to find her sitting there waiting her turn. Someone he didn't have to hide or try to be somebody that he wasn't sure he was. She had the same issues. I don't know the details, but I do know that Rick liked you. He liked you enough to want to seek help. With the one he met in the office, he dove off a cliff, and the shit scared him and caused Sinclaire to take over. Sinclaire isn't going to stop until he get's what he wants. He always wanted, Michonne. No one else."

"Her name is Michonne?"

"Yeah. Her name is Michonne."

"Then who is Suzanne? Rick has mentioned a Suzanne."

"I can only tell you what I know. I would go with Rick to his appointments. He was nervous about approaching, Michonne. She was scared as shit of him. Those two had a nervous energy that could be felt for miles around. It wouldn't take long before Sinclaire would take over and then Michonne would warm up to him. I'm not sure what were the triggers other than being scared shitless because you are face to face with your soulmate."

"Are you trying to make me feel better?"

"I am trying to give you some insight. I am glad that his parents finally see that they need to stop trying to prevent what was or is destined. They can stop with the interventions and shit. I'm not saying how you found out about the marriage was the best way to find out. He's not that kind of person and would not have married you if he knew he was already married to Michonne."

"What in the hell are you saying to me, Shane?"

"What do you mean what in the hell am I saying to you, Lori?"

"Rick's married?"

"What, wait. What happened? Why did you throw, Rick out the house?"

"He's married to Michonne?"

"Wait! Why did you throw Rick out the house?"

"She came knocking on the door. Then she knocked on the windows. Rick answered the door, clueless as usual. Luckily I was standing behind him with my phone ready to call the police."

"Hello, can I help you?" Rick opened the front door to his California home on the beach.

"Are you Sinclaire?"

"No. You have the wrong house."

"Do you know a Sinclaire?"

"No. You have the wrong house."

"I was told by Suzanne that if I throw a brick through the window of this house, I will get Sinclaire to come out to play."

"I'm calling the police, Rick." Lori indicated her decision.

"You are calling the police on me because I am asking your husband to come out and play with his 7 kids?"

"What?"

Lori moved Rick to the side so she could see the woman for herself that was making such an absurd accusation. The woman was slim. She was dressed in a white top with too tight of a vest, slacks, and boots with a scarf tied on the front of her head. She had dreadlocks and a scowl.

Rick was fighting an awful headache. He was trying to stay lucid and present, but the smell was getting too much the more the unfamiliar woman spoke.

"7 kids. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. He has 7 kids with my twin sister. Identical. So, if you are looking at me, it is like you are looking at her but she likes to wear flower dresses. She's too friendly for her own good, and I am mean as shit. That is how you tell us apart."

The more the unknown woman spoke, the more the headache was making him blind. He was going to faint. He could hear his mother in the background absolutely frantic.

"Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear."

"There is no Sinclaire here." Lori denied the existence or the possible truth until Sinclaire spoke after Michonne threatened Rick's life.

"If you don't bring your ass back to Georgia to help me with those 7 kids I will kill you where you stand. Then you have an excuse. I will gladly help you with that excuse."

"We have eight kids. Eight goddamn it. If you keep up with that fuzzy math of yours, I am going to have to kill the man that may have thought he fathered any of my children. I will kill him before you can think to try and kill me. Suzanne has only been with me. No one but me."

* * *

"I've talked to Shane. He's going to take over at Go Stop. It's going to be indefinite. He got enough votes to make it legal and binding."

"Good." Ms. Ella held the phone to her ear.

"He said it is as you've witnessed in California. He is back with the woman he met years ago. Shane saw our Rick with her at the airport. Shane says he followed them. He knows where Rick is staying. Shane says it is very much off the beaten path."

"Do you think we should turn off his credit cards? Freeze the accounts?"

"Heavens to goodness no. We would have Sinclaire to deal with, and he would more than likely kill us in our sleep."

"Oh Dear God!" Ms. Ella was sitting at the airport in LA. She was told to leave by Lori. It was for the best.

"If it is indeed true that he has 8 children, more than likely he will need all the money he can get his hands on to take care of them."

"We have grandchildren, Senior." Ms. Ella voice cracked. The whole thought was overwhelming and gut-wrenching.

"Not if our son Richard does not acknowledge them as his. If our son Richard says he is the father, then we got a lot of work to do in trying to get to know them and somehow bridge the gap. If those children belong to Sinclaire..."

The magnitude of such a thought was more than the two could or wanted to comprehend at the time now that Senior spoke of it.

"You've got to consider things the way he see's it, Senior. You've got to acknowledge that you knew about your brother, his Uncle. You've got to admit it in order for him to move forward, for all of us to move forward."

His wife's words had Senior go down memory lane and consider again what he had divulged to Dr. Deanna so many years ago with his wife in attendance and their son Richard missing in action. It was a different Alter that was more childlike but had no interest in the conversation 20 years ago, other than playing with the blue and red Legos, and a Transformer.

* * *

"Never thought I see the day that you eat spaghetti." Granny sat in her rocking chair while Uncle Charlie leaned against the stair rail making sure to not place his full weight on it or it would inevitably break off.

"As long as a woman isn't at the stove making it, I say it is edible."

"At your age, Uncle Charlie, what woman is trying to voodoo you? Any woman you would have known is buried in the ground, and their soul is in the gates of Heaven. We can hope that you know?"

"I watched him with the tomatoes. I saw what he put in it, and he told me to stand guard and stir. I could eat it because I know what went into it." Uncle Charlie declared patting his belly.

"You got two plates too. I guess spaghetti is how you want to die. Changing your diet up so- is not good, Uncle Charlie."

"I had some of that salad. That was a good balance. Never knew there would be a day that a man would step in and cook. Cook well enough. Ready to clean up things too. Never known a man that doesn't mind serving instead of expecting to be served other than in a restaurant. A restaurant is different."

"We sho' ain't in no restaurant. That is for sure, Uncle Charlie."

"Times have changed, Granny. Good time for him to come back and teach his boy's different things that men are capable of doing with no shame attached. Back in my day, I knowed nothing about it. Never crossed my mind thinking about it now. A man's job has always been to provide, and the woman's job was to make a home with the provisions he sat on the table from a hard days labor."

"Yes, indeed. Thing's have certainly changed." Granny rocked.

"It wasn't on just that television for us to see it. We saw it first hand, Granny. The man bought groceries, and he cooked."

"He did, indeed. Indeed he did."

"I hope he knows we still need to work on digging up that well-pump. I ain't paying for nothing more than what was in that Ad. I promise you that, Granny."

"The amount of money he spent on Grocery, Uncle Charlie I would think your 50 dollars won't mean much to him one way or another. Saw the receipt with my own two eyes because I took it from Carlton who was showing Ghost how rich their Daddy may be. That man in there spent over twelve hundred dollars."

"For true?"

"For true."

"Boy child was happy. I like when my boy child is happy."

"Don't take much for any of them, Uncle Charlie."

"Don't take much. Those kids have never been so quiet all their lives."

"Now you ain't talking for true. All the slurping and sauce mess on their faces. A mess they were making."

"All I saw with my own eyes were smiles. We haven't had that in a long time around the table if at all. Jasmine stayed quiet long enough to enjoy her food while it was hot enough to eat it."

"She proud of that name, you know. Keeps reminding me that her name isn't Ghost. I told her don't fault me. Fault her Mama for starting the habit."

"That girl child got something to be happy about. Finally got a name."

"Surprised you remembered it. You keep calling the kid's boy child or girl child. She's the only one that you remember as Ghost and now, Jasmine."

"I happened to be partial to her. She reminds me of her Mama. I like the name, Jasmine Amber Jean. She says it with so much pride. Can't help but be partial to that girl child that reminds me of her Mama."

"Glad that what Michonne has isn't contagious or in the bloodline now that we know for sure they Daddy crazy too."

"They Daddy ain't crazy nor is Michonne. I need you to stop that talk now. Two people had things happen, and the only way to handle it is the best way they can."

"I've had bad things happen to me. I 'm not going around like I'm another person. A lot of peoples have had things happen to them, and they don't pretend to be somebody else."

"Then I guess we should consider ourselves lucky if we go through your thought process, Granny."

"Logical."

"Like the exorcism?"

"She was doing too much. It says it in the bible to get the devil out the swine, Jesus-"

"My girl child ain't part of no swine. I'm not a religious man that knows the bible as well as you may do, but there is no devil stuck inside of my Girlchild as far as I can see it. The devils had their way with her and you confusing the situation if you think of it any other way."

"Not saying you wrong, Uncle Charlie. I don't fault you for what you had to go and do. I don't fault you none, but I am tired of you and her both finding fault with me. I didn't know of any other way to help her."

"I know, Granny. I don't think Girl Child understands or if she will ever be capable at some point, but I do believe if you listen, it will be answer enough for Girl child."

"Well, she got the Daddy, back here. We got the spirit of the woman in the flower dress moving about inside the house right now with Glady's Knight blasting in the bedroom. I think devilment will keep my listening skills the least of Michonne's concern for a long while."

"Yes, indeed."

"Indeed. Yes. Indeed!"

* * *

"We have condoms, Suzanne."

"I know, Sinclaire."

"Well, why are you doing what you doing?"

"What are you talking about, Sinclaire?"

"Why you put that dress on?"

This particular flower dress was now his favorite. It was one he had never seen before, and his Suzanne in a dress with any kind of flower was a sure fire way to keep him fighting to be present. He loved his Suzanne with a fierceness that only he and she understood.

"This old thing?" Suzanne was playing coy.

"You know what you in a dress does to me, Woman." Sinclaire bit down on his lower lip.

Suzanne glanced at Sinclaire's bulge that was flagrantly visible with him wearing sweatpants. Lust was all over his face.

"Michonne is long gone."

"Why, what happened?"

"Condoms happened."

"She's going to fuck around and get pregnant by Rick again. Is that what she wants?"

"I don't know what she wants. I don't understand her. She runs off looking for answers, and if she can't find them, she sits in the dark. She doesn't want Rick participating and anticipating either."

"He has definitely been anticipating, but you came into the room and threw him off with putting on a dress at this hour. I was watching you leave the room to come back with some music for us. With my favorite music playing by Glady's Knight I think you made the right choice because it's going to get loud in this bedroom tonight."

"Do you like what you see, Sinclaire?"

"I can't look away from you. I'm watching you do a striptease to your favorite song."

"If I Were Your Woman," Suzanne informed him of the title.

"You are my woman, and you keep this up **we** will fuck around and have another baby. We won't have to worry about Rick and Michonne. I'm revved to give you a full gut of Pips you keep it up, Suzanne."

"We have condoms, Sinclaire." Suzanne giggled. "But you know I would happily have your Pips to complete Glady's Knight."

"I have never put a condom on with you, Suzanne and I don't know if I want to start when I have always had you, felt you and you're talking sexy to me."

"Fill me up with some Pips baby."

Sinclaire had lost his train of thought. He no longer could just sit back and watch his Suzanne do a sexy striptease dance on the side of the bed with only her black panties left on. The dress, the music, and his Suzanne had him in overdrive. She also wanted some Pips.

Rick didn't realize that his Alter had taken over until he woke up the next morning. He wasn't aware that he had fallen asleep with his hand resting on Michonne's ass and her hand resting on his chest. He wasn't even on his side of the bed.

The untouchable ass was in the palm of his hands. The urge to press down and squeeze the mound was too great to pass up, and the very moment he thought better of it, his involuntary reflex had caused Michonne to awaken with a surprised look that turned quickly to murderous.

He was a dead man but thank God for Marty who was caught red-handed with a box of contraceptives that he got from the open nightstand drawer.

It confused Michonne on which to deal with first. Rick touching her or the children thinking the condoms were in fact balloons hidden away from them.

* * *

A/N: I will review for errors in the morning. Thanks for reading!


	32. Chapter 32

"Father has a strengthening character like the sun and mother has a soothing temper like the moon."  
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

* * *

The children were up earlier than ever.

Marty knew precisely where the balloons were. He followed his Daddy when his Mama gave them to him. She had pinched his Daddy for buying them. She had told his Daddy throw them away, but his Daddy took them in the bedroom and put them in the nightstand drawer. He knew, but no one else did.

They were in search of the balloons that had a cherry flavor according to Carlton who spoke about it early that morning when they all should have been still sleeping in their beds, but his sisters were in his bedroom including Andre and Marty. The youngest twins were still fast asleep until a few minutes later.

"Are you sick?" Abigail gasped.

"No. I feel fine." Carlton assured his sister.

"Does it hurt?" Jasmine Amber Jean wondered as she lightly touched his upper lip.

"Not really."

"You need to tell, Mama." Andre stepped back. He wanted to go find his Mama to tell her all about it.

"It doesn't hurt. Itch a little but doesn't hurt."

"Your face got like that during the night?" Billie Jo asked her oldest brother who had what look to be welts on his face.

Carlton shrugged.

"I love our Daddy." Marty began.

"I love my name. My name is Jasmine Amber Jean." She giggled happily in Marty's face rubbing her nose with his. Something their Mama would do to all of them.

"I love spaghetti. I didn't like meatballs, but I like spaghetti." Marty was the only one of the children that had an unusual way of pronouncing spaghetti, and he had an aversion to the meatballs.

"I didn't like the salad, but I liked everything else." Abigail moved Billie Jo's hair back so they could be identical.

Billie Jo moved her hair back to where it was initially.

Identical wasn't important to her especially since their Daddy said he could see a difference between them. Billie Joe wanted to be pretty, but she didn't want to be the same pretty as her sister, Abigail. This change in behavior was new to Abigail, and she wasn't sure how to take it. The two girls had a little falling out about it moments ago before the topic changed officially from Carlton's swollen lips to the meal they had that night.

"Martin Sinclaire what do you have in your hands!?" Michonne was ready to reprimand the little boy. It outweighed Rick's hand on her bare ass.

"Balloons." The small voice replied innocently. The usual smile was replaced with worry.

"How did you know they were in there?"

"Daddy."

"Put them back. Put them back now. They are not balloons. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mama."

Marty did as he was told. He placed the condoms back in the nightstand drawer that was on his Mama's side. He took off running to his Daddy's side of the bed and buried his face in Rick's hand nearest his hip. Rick was flustered on what was appropriate and if they were dancing along the lines of human indecency.

"Who told you to come in here without knocking?" Michonne asked the little boy that favored Rick more than ever. She gave notice to it for a split second.

Marty shrugged and buried his face in his Daddy's side.

Michonne yelled at the top of her lungs. It didn't take much for the kids to hear her because all 5 that weren't in the bedroom were right outside the bedroom. The door was wide open, courtesy of Marty.

"Michonne, don't you think we should get dressed first?"

Rick had to remind Michonne of their nudity as he tugged to have more of the sheet to cover his abs and lower body. She pulled to have enough to cover her breast. Anger superseded everything.

"Everyone, stand at attention," Michonne commanded.

Their bedroom had five kids slowly stepping inside with guilt-ridden looks upon their faces. Glady's and Knight peeked in and ran as if they were being chased to find their Granny.

"What time is it Rick?"

Rick was startled that his name was called. He was busy studying the frightened faces of the children that were at the foot of the bed. His pinky finger was being squeezed by Marty.

The watch on his wrist was more reliable than the alarm clock on the nightstand. He checked his wrist, "7am."

"It is 7am children, and this is what you do?"

"No, Mama."

"Who put Marty up to this?"

Jasmine Amber Jean spoke up for every one of them, "We all did, Mama."

"I don't like when you use, Marty that way. You know it, and yet you all do it. I want it to stop. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mama." They all spoke in unison.

"He learns right from wrong by what?"

"Example." They answered as if they were a chorus.

"Now your Daddy is going to explain why those aren't balloons." Michonne turned to Rick.

Rick's eyes widen. He was going to go into cardiac arrest. He wasn't prepared. If they weren't balloons, then he had no idea what to say or how to explain to an inappropriate age child or children for this matter what they were and the use.

"Go ahead, Daddy." Michonne mocked, "Tell your children what those things are really for so they can stop hunting around for them."

Sinclaire responded as succinctly as he could, "Those things protect me from your Mama at night. She likes to attack me in a good way that only she knows how at night and -"

"Oh my, God! What!?" Michonne was stunned.

The children were amused. A few giggles escaped even though their Mama was mad, but it was the first time her mad wasn't really mad. Her face was different and her tone. It was like she knew their Daddy was teasing and she had to keep from laughing or saying what she really wanted to say about it. That is what the kids saw, and it felt good to them to know something was different. A good different. It was good to have a Daddy and a Mama they each thought at the time.

"You need to thank your lucky stars, Mister. You need to thank Marty for saving your life and the children." Michonne wanted to pinch Rick, but she felt it would be inappropriate to the mood that was set.

She could feel the kids general excitement and hear the glee in their giggle and scoff. This was a good change in their lives. She recognized it at that very moment their eyes were alit with merriment. They were happy even though they were in trouble.

Sinclaire had Michonne on ignore he was concerned about Carlton. He promised his Suzanne he would behave himself but the sight caught him off guard. He had to speak up about it. He needed this brought to Rick's attention.

"Come here, Carlton. Let me see you up close."

Carlton stepped forward, and Michonne eyes widen the closer he stood by the side of the bed. She gasped at the same time Sinclaire voiced his concerns with his son's chin resting on his index finger as he inspected.

"For the love of Granny's God what happened?" Rick eyes couldn't believe the sight.

Carlton shrugged. He wasn't sure. It wasn't the first time that he would get itchy or bumps on his body and face. Sometimes for no real discernable reason at all. This was the only time it was severe enough to make even him feel concerned because his Daddy was worried. Really worried about it.

The smell of bacon wafted through the air. The twins were back with Granny in the doorway. Gladys and Knight would only allow themselves to peek inside. They got their Daddy's attention because he winked at them. They giggled and ran off again to find their Uncle Charlie. Their Daddy was still too scary and exciting at the same time.

"What in the Same hell? If y'all don't get your asses out of grown folk's room, I say I am going to give you all a tongue lashing and your Daddy ain't said nothing was wrong with that. Now get on out of there and get ready for breakfast."

"We in trouble, Granny." Jasmine Amber Jean informed Granny. It was enough to bring Granny up to speed with the situation.

"What for?" Granny asked. If anyone was going to tell it was going to be that Jasmine Amber Jean if she knew anything about it. Usually, it would be Abigail and Billie Jo, but that was only if they had no parts in devilment.

"Balloons."

"What did I say about it, Jasmine Amber Jean?" Michonne shot back at the little girl who always spoke up for everyone.

"Those aren't balloons."

"Then what are they?" Granny wanted to know herself. She wanted to know what would make the children think there were balloons somewhere in the house. She had no idea that Carlton had put a condom to his lips last night when groceries were being put away.

"Condoms," Michonne responded cutting her eye to the man that was now fully officially tongue-tied Rick who's only focus was his son, Carlton.

Michonne wondered again if he was some type of doctor the way he was touching the welts that blotched the oldest boys skin. She asked him about it on the airplane, but he said he wasn't. She had questioned Suzanne to the occupation and found no answers there.

"For heaven be to Jesus. Yall bring your asses out of grown folks room. You hear me? Don't let me hear about you creeping in and meddling around where you have no business. The devil hides in drawers that don't belong to you."

Granny shook her head. It was good to know that the two that weren't dressed appropriately were going about things safely but it was another thing to try and understand how the kids got their hands on such a thing to think those were balloons.

Rick glanced from Granny to the children, "Listen to your Granny. Go on and get ready for breakfast."

The children took this as their cue to leave because their Daddy told them to listen to Granny and their Mama didn't say a word otherwise.

"I took the liberty to cook. Things have to be done a certain way around here, and my bible and stirring spoon must touch all things that are going to feed us around here."

Michonne knew what Granny spoke was for Rick to understand. The act nor the words were lost on Michonne. Granny didn't trust Rick's spirit around food. He could buy whatever he wanted them to eat, but she and God were the overseer of the kitchen.

"Now come on, Carlton." Granny summoned.

Carlton was reluctant to leave the touch of his father. He craved the attention of his Daddy. He wanted that voice directed at him and him alone.

Rick felt Carlton wanting another second, and he gave him a half smile because it warmed him up even more to the oldest of the children.

"When you are finished Carl, I'm taking you to the hospital. Unless it hurts and you want to go now?"

"It doesn't hurt."

Rick wasn't too sure about it or if what Carlton was telling him was true. It looked painful. He sensed that Carlton was still hesitant to leave his side.

"Your Mama and I are going to wash up meet you and your sisters and brothers at the table for breakfast. Won't be long. Okay?"

"Okay, Daddy." Carlton almost choked saying it.

"Very good, son. Now go and keep an eye out on what your brothers and sisters are doing till I get there with your Mama. Tell Gladys and Knight I want them sitting next to me at the table. I've got to get them use to me."

Michonne was trying to fight a smile. She could sense, Rick's concern over the babies thinking he was still boogeyman. They were unsure about him. It was something Michonne didn't want to force. Knowing he was aware that he needed to interact was reassuring. She still kept the keys hidden. His phone too. No distractions. It was important that he see them in need of a Daddy. She was tired of trying to do it all by herself.

"Okay, Daddy."

Rick ruffled Carlton's head full of hair before watching the young boy walk towards the old woman in the doorway.

"What's wrong with Uncle Charlie's boy child?" Granny touched the head of every child that rushed past her. It was her way of keeping count. The smell of bacon was an incentive for them. She counted 6. Carlton made seven.

She took a long look at Carlton's face, resting her hand on his shoulder's to see with her own two eyes what was ailing the oldest child.

"What did you get into now, boy? You want to worry your Uncle Charlie that you got Small Poxes or Chicken Poxes?"

"No Granny." Carlton didn't want Uncle Charlie worried. He already had his Daddy worried. He for a second forgot the kind of worry that Uncle Charlie would have if he saw him. It was always something that could bring tears to the old man's eyes.

"I have no idea how we going to explain those hives again to him. I will see if I can get him to get some money out the floorboard so you can find out what it is you are allergic. Might be spaghetti." Granny hugged her Great-grandson who hugged her back.

Michonne defended Rick without thinking, "It's not the spaghetti, Granny."

"I like spaghetti, Granny."

"Maybe the Garlic bread or that pudding cake?"

Granny ignored Michonne. She was making these suggestions directly to Carlton. It was the reason why God's anointed needed to be in the kitchen cooking food and not a man-woman in a fluffy apron. She had to admit she liked the Apron, just not their Daddy wearing it and talking and acting like he was a female chef with an accent. The Devil was visible last night at the stove. She didn't want to think about how many demons he had lurking inside of him. Sinclaire was enough.

"Tiramisu. And It wasn't that either." Michonne defended.

Michonne helped Granny to name the dessert and keep it in her memory. Granny would make a better version of it. Granny had taste buds that dissected food. She was gifted that way. She could cook and bake. She just didn't have much to prepare nor enough of the right ingredients to bake. What they did have or what they could grow they had to stretch for the constantly growing mouths to feed.

"How do you know?" Granny asked. She finally acknowledged Michonne.

Rick took note of this interaction.

"Because he would not have eaten it. Carlton doesn't eat things that his body tells him isn't right. Natural from what I've read about it, Granny."

Granny ignored her Grand Daughter as if she hadn't said a word. It wasn't that she disagreed with Michonne. It was just so much that was still heavy between them.

Granny spoke directly to Rick with her eagle eye on Marty who hadn't moved one inch from the man that was taking on the Daddy role at a very quick pace. It was good to see Marty latching on, she knew it was going to be a problem if not corrected early.

"Uncle Charlie will go into the floorboard for Boychild. That is his boy child, and he will pay for you to take him to a good doctor to make sure he doesn't have anyone of those Poxes. He will get one look at his boy child, and he won't rest about it. Just so you know if you going to take him to the hospital please for the love of the one and only baby Jesus bring back a letter written in cursive about what was his ailment. I promise you if you don't take boy child, Uncle Charlie will more than likely try and walk with him to be seen, and that is nearly 20 miles."

"Cursive?"

"He can't read, and I don't care if you wrote it yourself. He knows, Michonne's writing. It can't be her to do it. If you can get the doctors to do it, that's good too." Granny suggested.

For Granny, the thought of having Uncle Charlie worked up and questioning why no one else sees the urgency of the Pox making a comeback was going to be too much with all the spirits under one roof, sitting together on the same bed naked as they came into the world.

Rick didn't know what to say, so he nodded.

"Come on now, Marty," Granny called the young boy who was a splitting image of his Daddy only the young boy wore a permanent tan. They shared the same fine hair. Good hair, Granny would call it.

Marty shook his head. He loved his Daddy.

"Go on, now, Marty." Michonne tried to urge Marty to listen to his Granny.

"I want, Daddy."

"Can Daddy get washed up?" Michonne asked the little boy who was still trying to hide.

Marty shook his head, no.

"Can Daddy please get washed up?" Michonne wondered if that would release Rick from Marty's clutches.

Marty shook his head no.

"What can I do?" Rick asked Marty.

"Stay with me."

"Aren't you hungry, boy child?" Granny chimed.

Marty shook his head.

"The spaghetti was the most he has ever eaten." Michonne commented.

"Indeed it was. The child never had an appetite for much, but he put away that spaghetti." Granny laughed.

Michonne was surprised that she and Granny were in agreement about something. They were laughing together.

Rick took the information that was provided and enticed Marty a different way since food wasn't an incentive and clean Daddy wasn't either.

"I will have you come with us to take Carlton to the hospital. How about that? Would you like that, Marty?"

Marty's face lit up.

"You've got to let me and your Mama get cleaned up, and after breakfast, you will come with us."

"Okay, Daddy." Marty began to jump up and down. He was excited.

"Now go sit at the table and wait. Can you do that for me, son?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Before you go, do you have something you want to say about what your were doing in our room?"

"Sorry, Mama. Sorry Daddy."

"Good, now go on and listen to what your Granny tells you."

"Okay, Daddy."

Marty was ready to speed out the room but not before halting to allow Granny to touch the top of his head. Eight. Eight kids went past her. She can officially account for eight.

* * *

A/N: I will correct for errors and clarity. Thanks for reading.


	33. Chapter 33

"I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom."  
 **― Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum**

* * *

"What?"

Michonne caught the surprise look on Rick's face. She was entering the bathroom while he was inside staring at his cuts and bruised face.

"Are you going first?" Rick hesitated.

"How much time do you think we have?" Michonne tipped her head slightly to one side.

"You want me to tell them to go on ahead and eat. It's really not necessary for them to wait for us." Rick was ready to venture out of the bathroom, reaching for his robe but stopped.

"They will not go ahead. It is necessary to wait. Granny and Uncle Charlie will have it no other way. Everyone under the roof at the table. Always been that way."

"I thought you were mad at me."

"I'd solved the issue."

"Which was?"

"You still had your things in a suitcase. I unpacked them for you."

"Issue solved?"

"Yes."

"What about the other issues?"

"What other issues?"

"The condoms."

"You are encouraging them."

"They didn't use any last night, Michonne. The only box that was open was the one that Carlton got into last night is what I am trying to tell you."

"Well, thank God I am on birth control. I don't put my life in the hands of a man."

"Then how did all the kids come about? At what point did you realize birth control was possibly a good idea? After the eighth?"

"I have only had one! One kid! Andre is mine!"

This topic was the sticking point. Rick realized it. He acknowledged her delusion was something that may not ever be overcome as he scratched his forehead with no solution or remedy.

He watched Michonne hang up her towel. She took his from where it was dropped over the sink and hung it next to hers. She quickly began brushing her teeth while he tried to not take in the sight of her. She rinsed and spit. Rinsed and spit. She was trying to not take in the view of him.

They were both naked standing before each other in the bathroom giving the water temperature their undivided attention. The two people were patiently waiting for the water to go from ice cold to hot. Three minutes is all that they had to enjoy a tolerable shower before it would go without warning to scorching hot and back to bone chilling cold again. They were waiting for the middle to climb in and take turns.

Michonne found her hesitation to shower with him gone by the wayside. She knew it may have had something to do with Suzanne lingering close to the surface. And something else. There was fear in his eyes. Participation and anticipation were gone. Fear. He wasn't a threat when he was vulnerable.

There weren't any more words shared during this time.

Thirty seconds each to wet their skins as one stood in front of the other taking turns under the dangling shower head. Once soaked, they took turns to quickly lather their own skin.

They had started out with trying to keep their back turned. Rick wasn't sure what came over him when he lifted Michonne's dreads.

She allowed him to take a fist full while the water covered her closed eyelids. His eyes captured every ripple and break of the warming beads of water that beat upon her dark skin, while he waited.

Rick released her hair from his grip to fall upon her wet back when she abruptly faced him to move aside trying to not touch, but it was practically impossible in the small shower. They had to hurry because in less than sixty seconds the temperature would increase, hot enough to scald the skin. Her eyes flickered open.

They shared the same fear of having someone standing behind them. Michonne and Rick tried it at first but chose from then on, to stand face to face stealing glances of the suds that were washed away to reveal skin and the differences in their sex.

Man. Woman. Two people with scars that would heal and reopen, heal and reopen.

Rick couldn't take his eyes off the way the water ran across her face, down and along her full lips. He couldn't hide what he wanted to do, what he wished she would ask him to do.

Michonne could see that his fear was gone. His eyes were looking directly into hers as he stepped under the shower head. He closed his eyes for a moment. Michonne thought that he looked like a man that likes to be wet with his hair plastered to his head. She took particular interest in the way his lips were parted as the water cascaded down over them.

For a moment she would have granted him permission to kiss her because she wanted to be kissed again. Kissed precisely the same way he kissed her in the airport with the I Love Chicago T-shirts in her hands.

Michonne wanted to be kissed again like that. Kissed like someone loved her.

On her tippy toes, she pressed her lips against his without further thought or hesitation.

His eyes flew open. His hands instantly searched for something to grip or to grab. Rick knew touch had to have her explicit permission. He needed her to tell him where to put his hands and with his backhand pressed against the shower wall and the other grasping for something he froze.

This confused her. It confused him.

The hot water chased them out.

* * *

"Lord of the most high!" Granny declared.

"Sorry, Granny." Carlton apologized.

His Uncle Charlie called him over to read the comics out loud to him. It was a habit to sit next to or closest to his Uncle Charlie.

"I told you to stay in that seat." Granny scolded the oldest boy child. She walked over to the head of the table and offered Uncle Charlie a paper towel.

Uncle Charlie took one look at Carlton and became upset as Granny predicted. She knew that Uncle Charlie always suspected that Carlton had more french in him and that may be why he had the Pox infliction.

There was something he was told as a young man about the dirty french and syphilis. Granny couldn't make heads or tails of the story other than it was a tale that the now old illiterate man believed more than the bible and Gods Power to cleans the soul and wipe out spirits.

This time Granny felt was different now they had someone to take Carlton to the hospital and would request a specialty doctor.

Uncle Charlie was visibly upset.

"What you keep getting yourself upset for, Uncle Charlie? His Daddy is taking him to the emergency. Lord knows by the time you walk him there it won't be an emergency no more."

"We could have taken care of it the last time."

Jasmine Amber Jean walked over to Uncle Charlie at the head of the table and rubbed his shoulder to console him.

"Don't worry Uncle Charlie. We have a Daddy. He will take care of it. Don't be sad."

Granny continued with her thoughts about the situation while the children were enamored about the food they were ready to taste and devour.

"You know that girl man spirit was moving about. Taking important things out that engine like so. Stranded right here. Stranded we are, right here because of that spirit. Now, that spirit makes the flower spirit look like a bed roses. Tell me if I am lying if you want. My good book right here says to tell it to Get down and obey Demon."

"Granny, you worried about the wrong thing when we need to focus on boy child having that Pox!"

Uncle Charlie usually could maintain an even temperament. It was how he was known. You would never expect a trigger ready man behind a gun when there was sound reasoning available as an option.

"Uncle Charlie if this was Pox why haven't the other children being inflicted. Why only your boy child every single time?"

"I don't need no logic about it, Granny. I need some of that science and medicine. I will pay for it. I will go and get the money out the floorboard for my boy child. We will worry later how to pay it back to its rightful owner if he ever comes back looking for it."

Uncle Charlie was pushing his chair from under the table but not before including, "I would do the same for ANY of em. No child should have to suffer or endure things that can be helped."

Michonne could hear the back and forth from the hallway. She knew that Uncle Charlie's eagle eye caught sight of what he considered a plague that was sent by the French. The story from years ago didn't make sense to her, and it wasn't worth repeating if Rick were to ever ask her about it. She would instead he heard it directly from Uncle Charlie.

"Now stay right there at the table, Uncle Charlie. His Daddy wants him to eat first and then we can discuss payment on the bill."

"Poxes can have a child in the ground, Granny."

"You've said that. Don't know if the kids need to hear it."

"No one is dying. I am here. I will take care of Carlton. He says he is not in pain to make it urgent but it still urgent enough for when he is finished eating, I want to take him to have it checked."

"You have medical insurance?" Michonne asked what the grown ups a the table wanted to know.

"No."

Rick realized the seat between the twins was vacant like Sinclaire had requested. He pulled the chair out, and both Gladys and Knight jumped out of their very own chairs and made a beeline to their Mama who was on the other side of the table eyeing the food that was prepared for them by Granny.

Michonne was attacked on both sides with demands to be picked up. The cries from the twins were full of urgency.

Marty took this as his opportunity to sit in one of the vacant seats next to his Daddy. This caused Jasmine Amber Jean and Andre to race for the other vacancy. Andre won.

"Don't you go to booting your face like your Mama. You got a name, remember?" Granny reminded the little girl formerly known as Ghost. With everything that has happened in a short amount of days Granny felt that Jasmine should feel grateful for the food they were about to enjoy and the effort everyone was trying to make to take care of them.

"Fix your face, Jasmine. Fix it now." Michonne cut her eye from her Granny to the little girl that struggled to not pout on demand.

"Okay, Mama."

Michonne lifted Knight up in the air. Gladys was surprised by this more than Knight who was expecting to have his Mama pick him up. What he didn't plan or expect was to land on his surprised Daddy's lap.

"Don't you dare get up. Do you hear me, Knight? You sit right there with your Daddy. He is not a Boogeyman."

Marty whispered to a trembling Knight, "Daddy's not scary."

Granny said the Prayer at breakfast and all heads bowed instantaneously.

The sound of silverware and the comments from the voices all around Rick became just one jumbled noise. He was overwhelmed.

He had Marty periodically touching him by patting him on his thigh or the side of his arm. Rick watched the young boy who had lost his smile and replaced it with a high level of concentration in sniffing his food looking for his Daddy to tell him exactly what it was that he was supposed to eat

"Eggs, bacon, and pancakes." Rick pointed his fork over each item.

"Don't you dare think you are going to drink anything without eating something first, Marty." Granny warned. She was the only one that caught him trying to reach for his orange juice.

Marty rested his hands on both sides of his face as if he was debating something about what was on his plate that he was expected to eat. Whatever courage he found, Marty took a bite of his eggs and found it disagreeable. The same for the bacon that he spit out after one chew. The pancakes were edible with very little syrup that Rick poured on the side for Marty to dab for taste after using his fork to cut a small bite size for him. The smile came back more brilliant than the last time.

Andre waited for the same treatment with his pancakes. After one taste Andre was sure he wanted the syrup poured all over his hot cakes, bacon, and eggs.

"Mmmm."

"You like your breakfast sweet like I like my Oatmeal." Uncle Charlie smiled at a happy Andre who nodded eagerly in agreement.

Rick wasn't sure at what point Knight calmed enough to eat from his fork but the third time was the charm. He offered the youngest child what was on his own plate, he was surprised to see the small mouth finally open. Any inhibition or shyness vanished.

Granny shook her head at the sight. This Daddy was going to spoil the kids rotten she thought to herself, tapping her closed bible for good measure.

"Good?" Rick asked Knight who looked identical to his sister with his hair just as long and styled in a singular pony tail.

He had a desire to touch it but it would not have been with out a comment to have it cut. It was something he will have to discuss with Michonne at some point first.

Knight chewed, nodding his head yes.

Rick used his fork to point at the bacon. Knight nodded again.

"Take it. Take a bite."

Knight did as instructed.

"Is it good?"

Knight nodded.

"Can I have a bite?"

Knight held the bacon close to Rick's mouth for his Daddy to take a bite. Rick hesitated. He knew he had to get the youngest of the children to see him not as a threat but a father figure that will keep them safe. He wanted Knight to be comfortable enough to willingly interact without being instructed.

Rick took a large bite to reach close to the little thumb, and with his lips, Sinclaire kissed the flesh. The act startled the child who's eyes were watching the mouth that closed over the bacon. Knight wasn't expecting the kiss from his Daddy on his finger. It caused him to squeal with a mixture of fear and delight.

Gladys was on alert. From what she could see there was still no danger from the stranger, resting her head on Michonne's arm when her Daddy smiled and winked at her as he did with every child seated at the table.

Abigail and Billie Joe laughed along with Michonne at the sight of Knight warming up more and more.

"Do we really need a ruckus at the table?" Granny asked.

* * *

Michonne quietly retrieved the keys knowing that Rick was trying to figure out the location but was distracted by the 4-year old that was the envy of the children that morning.

Standing outside on the porch, Rick didn't recognize the vehicle nor the driver when he was approached.

"I want to have words with you." Eugene stood on the bottom step.

"Words with me?"

"Yes. Yes, sir. It wasn't right for you to take out all your aggression on my brother, Daryl. It wasn't right, and it was uncalled for when all he has ever done, we have ever done was help with the kids. All the kids she has, it wasn't right for you to do what you did to Daryl. Daryl's my brother."

"I have no idea who you are?"

"You have been hunting us down one by one for years now. One by one based on what that flower girl tells you. I would like to think that she got it wrong when-"

"Let's get something straight. Right here and Right now about my Suzanne. She is not a liar. She's many things but a liar she's not. I told Daryl. I warned him. What he got is his final warning. Anything else he better not bring a crowbar to a gun battle."

"Daryl didn't hurt her."

"He led her there. He led her. I won't accept no other explanation."

"Whether you accept it or not it is the truth."

Uncle Charlie came out the house as fast as his old legs would allow him. He had the shotgun in his hand but pointed at no one. The weapon was for just in case.

"If you don't carry yourself on from here."

"Why don't you tell him, Uncle Charlie. Tell him about how Daryl came and got you."

"That man there has his own mind about things. I am not in the business of changing it. I would have killed Daryl myself, but I didn't. He did as you said he did. He came and got me. How this man on this porch feels about it is how he thinks about it. Daryl needs to listen up and stay away until things get settled. No sense in trying when the mind is made up."

"I had to say something." Eugene responded back with his reason for being there.

"And you did. He heard you. Now go on before he thinks he needs to kill you for being related."

"It happened to me a lot. It happened to Daryl some. It happened. It happens."

"That alone makes me want to kill him." The ice in Sinclaire's voice was felt. Uncle Charlie shook his head and hoped that the fella on the bottom step would take heed.

"What are you doing here, Eugene?" Michonne stepped outside of the screen door on to the porch. "Daryl offering my job back?" Michonne tried to guess.

The glare he received from the man that beat Daryl was enough for Eugene to reconsider everything in his life.

"Naw." Eugene got back in his truck and sped off.

Michonne searched for answers from Uncle Charlie, and Rick. She knew that Eugene was strange and the way he would interact with her on occasion had her creeped out but for him to come to her place meant something or a message.

"What did he want then?"

"He didn't want to die, today," Sinclaire answered, lifting Marty to his hip after taking the keys from Michonne. They were going to take Carlton to the hospital. Carlton finally came running out the house dressed in clothes too small for him. This had Rick curious to the extent of things. He wanted to say something but Sinclaire still had his throat in a juggernaut.

Rick had Marty glued to his side after breakfast was finished and it would remain that way at the hospital while Carl was placed on an IV of Benadryl to help with hives that appeared worst than better. The list was given to Michonne on what were the culprits and latex was number one on the list the next was clothes detergent.

There were quite a few things she would have to change now that she knew there were eight more things that were irritants to Carl and she would need to bring Granny and Uncle Charlie up to speed on what the doctors have said. Michonne had finally received discharge papers for Carlton who dozed in and out of sleep during the whole time they were there.

"Where did you go?"

"To the cafeteria with Marty. Took him across the courtyard to a small playground outside. Came back and paid the bill with my credit card."

Rick gave his whereabouts to Michonne without hesitation as he held a sleeping Marty in arms. He lifted up a drowsy Carlton, following Michonne through the hospital.

"I told them I didn't have any insurance."

"I took care of it, Michonne."

"They asked me if you had insurance."

"I told you at breakfast, I don't."

"Then how were you able to get everything done?"

"I paid the bill on my credit card."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"You've already spent a lot of money on groceries."

"We have a big family."

"How much did the medical cost?"

"What they've calculated was two thousand. I'm to expect a separate bill for the allergy testing and a separate one for-."

"Is that credit card in your name is what I want to know. I need to have a heads up on these things."

Rick blinked. He blinked again. Only then he realized it wasn't his vision but his hearing that had to have deceived him.

"You told me on the airplane that you aren't a doctor."

"I'm not a doctor. I've never been a doctor. I've been to college, and that is how I know _that_ particular doctor I introduced you to earlier. Glenn went on to medical school. I have a degree in business management. I have a mast-."

"Why can't you just tell me, so I don't have to worry."

"I'm a Businessman."

"Mike said he was a businessman too. Hard drugs were his specialty and he majored in it heavily, weed he minored. He's behind bars as we speak."

The voice from behind them halted them in their tracks.

"Hey, Grimes. Glad I caught you before you left. It was really good to see you, man. We definitely need to get together. My wife, Maggie has planned a cookout at our home, and I would love for you and your wife, Michonne to come on out. Bring the kids of course. We have two kids ourselves. A few other couples have children. We plan to have a jumping gym castle, the works."

Rick was tongue-tied. Some factors brought it on, he wasn't married to Michonne, and they had more than two kids. He also had Michonne under the impression that he may be a drug dealer. All of these things were problematic to explain that his wife was in California, they had a son who died senselessly, he was the father of eight children during several severe mental lapses with an African American woman who had him dick whipped after just two brief encounters. He was being held hostage, and when he got back to the house, he had to be ready to perform slave labor because he wasn't a slave.

"Here's my address and the date. Wow. It so awesome to see you have settled down with a wife and two kids!" The Asian man glanced from Rick to Michonne. "Please remind this Jackass every day how lucky he is to have you."

She could just imagine everything that ran through Rick's small nut shaped brain. Michonne ventured to ask, "Do you feel lucky, Rick?"

* * *

A/N: This has been a struggle for me. I can't concentrate on any other story other than this one and trying to make it as linear as possible. I find my inability fascinating but it has put things at a snail pace.

Also I am trying to figure out Tumblr. I go on. I get overwhelmed. Go away. Go back on to try and understand. Set up a page get overwhelmed and...Yeah.

Hope this story is still intriguing and not very warped. I know smut is desired between Rick and Michonne. I am trying to bridge it all together.

I will come back to read in the morning for errors and clarity. Thanks for reading!


	34. Chapter 34

"I'm in a hole because at some point I found a shovel and started digging. Maybe I should trade my shovels for ladders and start climbing."  
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

* * *

The cursive writing was enough to calm, Uncle Charlie's fears. The ointment medication and the Benadryl helped both Carlton with the itching and Uncle Charlie from his scare of Poxes. Carlton was healthy enough to help dig, and their Daddy said it was okay when Michonne gave the nod and went on inside to leave them to it.

Uncle Charlie prayed that he knew exactly where that wedding ring was because every time there was a resurgence of Suzanne the house was turned upside down for long periods of time.

Only one person witnessed Michonne tossing the ring like a lone flower on top of a yet unburied casket. The child was planted on her hip at the time it was discarded. It was an odd thing to trust the young boy's small pointing finger.

No one knew whether or not Marty had any understanding of things. He couldn't yet speak a word but could smile brighter than Suzanne, and he loved to move fast throughout the house. Smiling was mostly all he did, and four years later it was still the same even though now he could actually speak.

Ask Marty where's the ring and he points to the side of the house. It just so happen the Well-Pump needed some repairs, and Uncle Charlie asked Marty one more time. The old man watched the small pint size boy pat the earth like he would pat his knees. Yes, little Marty had marked the spot.

It was one of the reasons why Uncle Charlie and his boy child was digging around and with the addition of the children's father the process sped alone much faster.

Rick began to realize the reason for the rope tied to the bucket. One hand on his waist and the other resting on the top of the handle of the shovel he waited for Carlton to finish sifting through the red earth. He was curious about what was causing excitement. This time it wasn't a worthless stone.

"I think I found it, Uncle Charlie. I think we got it now!" Carlton shouted happily.

"There is certainly a God today smiling down us."

"What?" Rick was curious about what was unearthed.

"Give it to your, Daddy now boy child."

"What?"

"That ring. We will have peace now."

"Marty said it would be here," Carlton spoke directly to Uncle Charlie before reaching the box to his Daddy.

"That Marty knew for true. It was for true."

"It was. It was, Uncle Charlie. Marty is smarter than all of us."

"That boy child will love when you tell him that." Uncle Charlie grinned from ear to ear with those thoughts of the happiest boy child he had ever known and the discovery of the small dirty black velvet box now in the Daddy's possession.

Rick opened the box after placing the shovel against the wall of the hole in which he and his son stood in while Uncle Charlie was holding his own shovel above surveying and supervising since the depth of the hole was harder for him to maneuver in and out.

Many expressions crossed and etched upon his face as the diamond flickered alive with the sunrays to help reveal the brilliance and shine. Rick tipped his head to the side to study what was engraved now that his eyes had adjusted and could make the words out.

Infinity etched on both sides of the diamond. It surprisingly matched what he had on his ring finger. The infinity markings. The inside gave him pause.

 _ **Forever, Richard Sinclaire Grimes March 1, 2007**_ , marked on the inside.

"What's wrong with my Daddy, Uncle Charlie?"

"Come on out there now, Boy Child. Steady that bucket and reach me your hand."

Carlton did as told. Uncle Charlie helped pull him up and out, his Daddy still down in the hole they dug.

"If you want a Good Daddy you going to needed to give him some space from time to time to process things. It takes time for a man to grow and be more than a good Daddy but possibly the greatest Daddy you could ever hope for. Can't crowd around him even though I know you and the rest are starving for him. When he is ripe he will be ready. Now that Marty, well he don't know any better. I think that Daddy of yours knows Marty may need some special attention down the road. Probably why it seems, he's taken to him more. That Daddy got a lot on his plate, and each of you will find your own time and place front and center grabbing up his undivided attention he's going to give to each of you. You hear me boy Child?"

"Yes, Uncle Charlie."

Carlton took hold of Uncle Charlie's hand after leaning their shovels against the porch. They went inside the house to give the Good Daddy time and the space he needed.

* * *

Rick felt his mind unraveling. He couldn't grasp nothing more than the overwhelming amount of information traveling at hyper speed.

Memories that weren't his but were his very own.

He had taken his ring off of his finger. Something he didn't recall doing until then. The marking of infinity was precisely the same. The engraving on the inside caused him to shudder and weep.

 _ **Forever, Michonne Suzanne Benton March 1, 2007.**_

 _Get a fucking grip!_

I married Lori August of that year.

 _Against my wishes!_

What happened to my wedding Ring?

 _That is your wedding ring asshole. You think I was going to buy one to marry fucking Lori when I told you we were already fucking married to someone else?_

I've committed a crime against my will.

 _Questionable buddy. We married freely in March. The against one's will was in August. Those headaches I gave you kept you from fucking Lori on the honeymoon and for an extended period of time after. Not on my watch were you going to consummate._

But I eventually did. I had. I have had sex with Lori. I have.

 _Shit was very disturbing. Doesn't take much for Lori and she doesn't need it often like you were hoping. And that was a sigh of relief from me. There was only so much the cheering squad could drown out with you two mating and you shooting off my seed like the plan was to have a child with her._

But we had a child. We had a child. We had a son his name was Carl.

 _We have a son name Carlton with the real wife. You never had a Goddamn kid with Lori. Now stop it. Stop it now. The reason I had your ass locked up in the looney ward for a minute. We are not reproducing with Lori. You have a son name Carlton, and you better get used to him because he is my blood. Not no goddamn adopted baby from China._

Rick was beginning to get a clear picture of events. A more detailed version of his son in California started to morph into an Asian boy. It was the compromise. Lori wanted to adopt a white child, and Sinclaire wanted to take a chance on an African American child. Soon an Asian baby was delivered to them. Rick remembered being very confused looking at what was their infant son.

"What are you doing down there sleeping?"

Rick felt water trickling down on his face. He had passed out without any memory of doing so. He only remembered a heated conversation with Sinclaire.

Michonne was staring down at him appearing amused.

"I don't mind you hiding as long as I can find you."

Rick could see she was enjoying herself.

"You can stop wetting me now."

Michonne tossed the water hose over in the grass away from the hole where Rick was now standing up in with his hair plastered to his head like it was in the shower earlier that morning.

"I went all over the house looking for you." Michonne informed him.

"What time is it?"

"You're asking me? You have a watch."

Rick glanced at his wrist and then back up at Michonne.

"You found something funny?" Rick challenged.

"I have no idea why Suzanne thinks you are attractive."

To Michonne he looked like a cute wet rat.

"You don't find me attractive?"

"Not when you are dirty and wet like that. Nope."

"I was attractive in the shower this morning."

"A little bit."

"You kissed me."

Michonne shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"I think we should practice."

"No. I don't like you like that or in that way."

"I've seen you naked, Michonne."

"Other people have. Makes no difference."

"What other people?"

"Now I have your attention."

"You're damn straight."

"There will be no more hanky panky between you and Suzanne. Do you hear me?"

"You need to have this conversation with yourself."

"I've taken all those flower dresses. I've taken them, and when I find a match and some lighter fluid, I am going to burn them to ashes to keep you away."

"Why would you go and do that?"

"You are not here for that. You are here to help me take care of these kids you keep knocking her up with."

"How are you going to tell me what I can or can't do with my woman?"

"She's not yours. I am putting my foot down, and I am taking control. C. O. N. T. R.O.L."

"Then that will leave you and me. You want that?"

"Stop it!"

"I allow Rick to interact with the children. I let him feel comfortable enough to shower with you this morning or sleep in the same bed as you for that matter."

"You aren't doing me any favors, Mister."

"The first two nights I think I did. But I could see that you like him just laying there while you ride him. He wanted you last night, but you were playing hard to get according to Suzanne. All scared about some condoms."

"I am not scared of Condoms. That is not true."

"Then what are you afraid of when it comes to him? You've had sex way before now."

"Done with this conversation. Done. Done. Done."

"Well, for your information he was just given some news about some things."

"Like what?"

"Something that is no longer a rumor."

"What's no longer a rumor?"

Rick thought long and hard. He tried to process what he now knew to have more truth than even he cared to admit. The gaze that he received from the woman above was enough for him to reconsider until they were on equal footing. Once he was out of the hole, he was eye to eye with her. She was ready to hang on his every word.

"What rumor, Rick?"

"I'm your husband, Michonne."

"To hell?"

"You have a problem with that?"

"Yes. I have a problem with that. I would have never married you, and I don't recall ever marrying you recent or in the past."

"What has Suzanne said about it?"

"She's too delusional." Michonne was dismissive of the idea or the supposed rumor that was in Sinclaire's head but shared with Rick.

"Delusional?"

Michonne nodded.

"I've got the ring."

"I don't want to see it."

"I don't know what to think or what to do. I'm a bigamist. If I had my phone I could possibly google to find out how many years in prison I could get for this."

"You and that damn phone. You will say anything to get your hands on two things. The keys and the phone. NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!" Michonne was so fired up and angry she wanted to shove him for having her so worked up that she thought better of it and walked towards the house to go inside.

Rick thought to himself as he watched the flustered woman walk away from him that there was one more thing that he would love to get his hands on. He glanced at the small black box that he had tightly gripped in his hand and back at Michonne. There _was_ actually a third thing he wanted to get his hands on with the view he had of her retreating-that ass.


	35. Chapter 35

"But the you who you are tonight is the same you I was in love with yesterday, the same you I'll be in love with tomorrow."  
 **― Gayle Forman, If I Stay**

* * *

It was way past his bedtime. Almost Midnight. Uncle Charlie couldn't rest knowing that his Girl child was out in the field led by Suzanne.

Suzanne was walking past him as if he didn't exist.

Uncle Charlie made sure that he did an about face when the flower dress caught the corner of his eye and whizzed around the corner to make her way out the front door into the night.

"Granny, I need the gun."

"What for?"

"She got Michonne headed out in the night."

"Oh, Dear God!" Granny allowed Uncle Charlie to step into her bedroom as she made way to the back of her small closet to get the shotgun that was leaned up against the wall.

When it came to Michonne, Uncle Charlie had Pep in his step, and it was the fear that harm was around the corner or the fact that devilment was attached to her Alter Ego. He wasn't sure which it was, but he was relieved to find her still standing on the front porch even if her back was to him as he spoke.

"Where you going now, Girl Child?"

Tears were streaming down her face. Tears wasn't an everyday occurrence for Suzanne whom always kept a sunny disposition, and this caught Uncle Charlie off guard. Tears were Michonne's forte. Tears, indifference or pissed off. Suzanne saw the sunnyside of everything. Why shed tears when a smile cures all?

"I have to find my wedding ring. I have to find it. I thought I had it in my dresser drawer inside of the ring box since it is not back on my finger. It's gone. I know she had something to do with it. I know she did. She won't tell me what she did with my ring other than you and Granny buried me with it. Buried me in the back of the house after the twins were born with the ring on my finger. I know you and Granny wouldn't bury me in the back of the house like I am part of the junk that you have stored out there. I know you wouldn't do that, Uncle Charlie."

"Where do you suppose we would bury you if we were to bury- _you_?" Uncle Charlie knew how to handle the woman in the colorful flower dress.

"Out there."

Suzanne gazed out into the darkness beyond the property. Her back was still to her Uncle Charlie who was standing with the screen door closed between them, the shotgun hidden from view in order not to startle her if she were to turn around to acknowledge him.

"Out there is a big place, Girl Child."

"It's just the field across the road. I have a flashlight." Suzanne wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks. "Diamonds will glisten with a little light through a whole lot of heavy darkness. I am going to find my wedding ring." Suzanne's voice was determined, and her back straightens more with the resolve she found.

Uncle Charlie prayed earlier that day he would find that wedding ring. Every single time there was a resurgence of Suzanne the house was turned upside down for long periods. Now that the kids Daddy had the ring, Uncle Charlie wondered when he would give it to the restless soul.

Uncle Charlie focused and watched his Girl Child take herself down the steps into the night. He grabbed a seat, refusing to lose sight of what direction her mind was going to take her even though this had to be one of the darkest nights that he could recall. Not a star in sight and the air smelled like rain was off in the distance as the warm wind blew past giving no relief from the heat.

The old man sighed and got comfortable on his porch Rocker waving away the sound of mosquitos and Gnats that buzzed near his ear but not finding him desirable to feast upon his aged skin. Bizzzzzz. Bizzzz. The shotgun rested on his lap.

He allowed his mind to wander to a particular time he didn't care to dwell. The time where he carried her almost lifeless body back into the house when she was just a young teen. He had blood on his clothes that were not hers nor his own.

He had murdered a few people that day, and he had the blessings of Sheriff Herschell who turned a blind eye when he and only he arrived to see the massacre down at the Redneck Hollar.

Uncle Charlie knew he would do the same even to this day to protect his Girl Child including the children she bore into the world a few years later that belong to the man she brought back from California.

No one by any means was going to take innocence and live to tell about it. Not while he was breathing, able to walk, and had his shotgun loaded.

Granny had prayed for him that day and asked him to repent. He would not. He wasn't sorry. He was only sorry he didn't know who the other's were. He was far from apologetic. He knew if his Michonne were to point someone out now, Uncle Charlie wouldn't ask questions. He would just aim and shoot.

The sound of the screen door opening and closing made the old man turn in surprise to see he had company. Granny would say the witching hour was beginning if she had mind to be up at that hour. She was more than likely still awake waiting to hear the shotgun or for him to tap on her door to put it away.

"What you doing out here?"

"Got a lot of things on my mind and I'm trying to keep them straight."

Rick was surprised to find Uncle Charlie on the porch over in the corner sitting in his Rocker with a shotgun resting in his lap. It was dark outside, but the old man was visible along with the weapon.

He was secretly in search of Michonne who had not come to bed. After waiting for over an hour with a hardon that wouldn't go down until now, right then, he wanted to make sure she was okay. He also wanted his phone.

"Which one you be?"

"I be?" Rick found the question and phrasing strange.

"You the one I know _or_ the slave held against his will to perform slave labor again in the morning?"

Uncle Charlie wasn't sure how to tell them apart with great certainty. He was going to try to see or make a note of any difference.

"I'm here because of the Craigslist Ad. I haven't forgotten. There's a lot of kids around here that need attention."

"How many you counting?"

"That's a funny thing."

"There's a woman that finds no humor in the number."

"I know."

"So how many are _you_ counting?"

"Every God Damn single one of them."

"Good. They all favor you."

"No denying it."

"Don't try and hopefully you can bring Michonne around with the right number."

"She won't go past one."

"She had Mike confused about it. He swears he never laid up with Michonne. He'd told me so. He knew she liked him and he said he liked her some, but she wasn't like most girls or any girls he knew. He wasn't allowed to touch her. That was the deal breaker he says. It was an odd conversation to have with the young man, especially about my girl child."

"He never?"

"Not according to him. He says that she's a good person, from what he could see and what little he knew but he wasn't a right fit."

"Where is he, Mike?" Rick knew the answer that he got from Michonne, Suzanne and Sinclaire. He wanted to hear it from someone else.

"Prison. He get's out in a few months. He will most certainly make his way over here since the kids think he is their pre-"

"Don't say it." Rick raised his hand. He felt a headache and a rise in his blood pressure. He had to change the subject, or he would lose time again. "I thought we get that mailbox out by the road in the morning. We could be missing out on the delivery of the Washer and Dryer."

Uncle Charlie noted the possible trigger would be Mike. He would have to tell Granny of this certainty.

"We have to be careful letting people know where we live. They're trying to take my land. I don't need another letter delivered saying certified."

"Do you think I can take a look at the letters you do have so I can make sense of things. If lawyers are involved, I need to know. I can help."

"Boy Child has been reading them to me and Granny. Some words he doesn't know about. When he doesn't know he pulls out the dictionary. Sometimes that doesn't help at all because all three of us still can't make sense of it. My shotgun will surely get across my meaning if they come. I would shoot first before I let anyone take what is mine. Has always been mine based on what was promised. I don't care if the government changed their minds. It is mine. I will shoot to kill."

Rick was stumped but not deterred. He was curious about what the government changed their minds on. The threat of killing people had him at a crossroads to thinking the man was either senile or there was a threat. The answers would be in the documents.

"In the morning, I want to have a look at those documents. I want to read them. I know the meaning of those possible words and I understand them. I have money and lawyers."

"You will fight for me?" Uncle Charlie was surprised.

"I will fight for what is right and fair."

"If I am in the wrong?"

"I will fight to make it look right."

"Sinclaire is that you under that beard?"

Uncle Charlie eyed the man that gave him that devilish twinkle that could not be missed even in the darkest of nights just like the white flicker of the hem of Suzanne's dress moving in the distance.

"I say, I may have found a way to keep my home but you come out here like you've lost something?"

Rick only heard what Uncle Charlie had just said about losing something. What was he really in search of?

Uncle Charlie had an idea of the other person that lived inside of Sinclaire and was sure he could tell the difference now. He was 95% positive.

Rick searched his mind, and the only thought that was there was that he had lost his erection. It was the fourth evening, and he really wanted to contact his Father. He also wanted to see if Lori may have left a message for him to call. He needed his phone. His phone.

Michonne had his keys. She was in charge of them. He had no idea where she would store them. His phone had to be wherever those keys were. He needed his phone.

"My phone."

"You ask Michonne?"

"She's not talking to me."

"How come?"

"Because I asked for my phone."

"She don't want you rescued sounds like to me."

"I'm not trying to leave," Rick admitted. He had accepted his fate.

"Then what you need a phone for? I don't have one. Any message for me is always relayed. I like the on the need to know basis. Sometimes it's better that way."

"I don't know about that Uncle Charlie. Sometimes it's just good to know."

"When you have lived as long as I have your mind can only hold so much of the little things that don't really matter when compared to the big scheme of things."'

"Sometimes the little things add up to the big things."

"I would think after a while on this earth you realized there are only a few things important and that is, You, your woman, and your children. If you got them all under one roof then what in the hell you need a phone for?"

"I guess you are right." Rick began to blush at the idea of having a woman. His woman. Right now, he was looking for one particular woman. He knew Michonne would injure him in some form or fashion if she was around or knew what was on his mind if he thought of her as his woman.

"It would be all you need. I promise you that."

"I'm having a hard time with everything. Sometimes it overwhelms me."

"For true?"

"I know they want to know me. I know the kids want to know who I am but there are times I am not exactly sure myself. I'm not sure of me."

"You got good intentions towards them don't you?"

"I do."

"That's a good place as any."

"The list..."

"Just follow it the best you can. If you know how to read and you got good intentions to not harm them in any way then you have the answers you can be sure about."

"Harm them? I would never- I would not. I don't know what you mean."

"To leave them is to harm them. If you plan to take that man that lives inside of you, the man that loves that woman almost more than he loves his children away- again- for any other stretch of time, I hope you never come back here. Ever. Not as long as I am living or she out there is breathing. The woman inside of her wants a love she can count on. Not the counting how many times you've come back to her. She wants this to be the time that you stayed and you stayed for good. You need to think long and hard about it before you let a few more days creep on by. You will easily find the path back into town, but that path will certainly kill you. Either he will do it or the woman out there."

Uncle Charlie could see that his words were reaching the man that had obvious eyes for Michonne even if he tried to hide them. The elder of the two could feel that his words were being received. Uncle Charlie continued.

"You better hope that Suzanne dies of a broken heart it would be the only way to keep Michonne from coming for you with a vengeance. She won't rest unless the hole is six feet deep and you are buried face down it."

"Uncle Charlie, I have a wife and-"

"You do! She's out there. Almost 11 years next week." Uncle Charlie glanced away from Rick to where Suzanne was tracking around with no fear.

"Now, you went and scared him shitless. Where's Michonne? I need that damn phone. He's not going to rest until he tells his Daddy that he is okay and to not worry. He is not going to rest until he can see with his own two eyes that his pretend wife with the pretend dead child is a chapter of his wasted life we can officially close."

Uncle Charlie was glad that Granny was inside to not have witnessed this change up. She would have struck the kids Daddy with a cross after dousing him with some holy water.

A pretend wife and a pretend dead child?

Uncle Charlie breathed in deep. He was sure or at least he wanted to not have heard him correctly. He didn't know how to question the information provided to him. He resigned to the fact that Granny wasn't present, and thank you, Jesus, to that if nothing else.

"Where in the hell is, Michonne?"

"No telling if Suzanne got her out there." Uncle Charlie was amused as he began to rock.

"Out there?" Sinclaire was confused. He searched out in the night for where his Suzanne could be without letting him know she was leaving.

Uncle Charlie continued to watch the dull light from the flashlight. A beam shone, aimed groundward way out yonder. An arthritic finger pointed in the direction, and Sinclaire's eyes followed.

"The light way out there shining near the ground. If Michonne were anywhere around what you see would not happen. The reason I'm up past my bedtime. Got to keep an eye out for her."

"What is she doing?"

"Looking for her ring. Insist the diamond would shine in the dark."

The smell. Something was oddly unfamiliar to Sinclaire as he stepped off the porch and walked off the property. The essence of his core became hinged on to him was the only way he could describe it.

He felt a heavy sensation he had never experienced but it was now something that he took note of as he began to find his footfalls on the gravel occurring and it wasn't his gait. The dense air filled his lungs. For the first time ever he was breathing the last breath of one and two and then three before he became fully aware that he wasn't sure if he was himself or him. Was it always this way?

The closer he came the more that he could make out the woman in a different flower dress that was even more beautiful than he could ever imagine her to wear. Michonne had told him she got rid of them. He could see it wasn't true or that Michonne didn't find the one his wife was wearing.

"Suzanne. What are you doing? Do you know what time it is?"

Sinclaire had startled her. She flashed the light in his face. She was entirely out of her mind until then. She had Michonne. Michonne was upset with being out to far from the house. The debate was that the flashlight wasn't a weapon.

"I've got to find it, Baby. I've got to. Michonne want's to go in the house. I don't want to go inside until I know I've searched here and then there."

"Don't worry about it, Suzanne. I will buy you another."

"I don't want another, Sinclaire! I want what you gave me initially. You have your wedding band. I want mine. We had it engraved on the inside you know. Mine say's, Forever, Sinclaire's. It says it. I know it does. I know it does."

"I don't want to have to buy you another, but I will. I would, Suzanne. Do you want to know why?" Sinclaire was hoping to distract her. His woman was upset and to see her frantic caused him to feel helpless if he couldn't calm her down. His Suzanne was happiness, Sunshine. She was his happiness sunshine.

"Why, Sinclaire?" Suzanne wiped her tears from her cheek with the back of her hand.

"Because, I love you. I love you and no one else. Nothing changes that. We can renew our vows, we can do that. I would do it. I just don't know how much longer I am going to be around. We've lost two from the cheering squad on my way over to you just now."

"Two?"

"The teenager and the poet."

"How many are left?"

"The only thing that I see is two missing seats at the table and the bleachers. Only shadows for the rest. A big blur but he can see them clearly."

"How do you know a teenager and poet is missing, Sinclaire, if you can't see them?"

Suzanne was confused.

"Because what he is discovering is like a teenager and the words are flooding his mind when he is feeling so much, overthinking everything. Rick isn't turning back. He is starting to want this. He is beginning to remember her as I remember you."

"He remember's Michonne?"

"He's asking. He's accepting it. Different from wanting to bathe and drown in amnesia. He _wants_ Michonne, Suzanne."

"You're losing, Sinclaire?" Suzanne's eyes were wide with fear. It was imminent.

Sinclaire voice cracked slightly when he spoke.

"Yes. I will be him, and he will be me, but it's not going to work if you are still, Suzanne. He wants Michonne or mostly the things he remembers."

"What does he remember?"

"Her touching him. The way that she held his hand when he was the most afraid of being touched. You need to push Michonne as much as you can. Push, cattle prod, I don't care, but that is who he wants to be with, and I don't know how I feel about you still being here without me, Suzanne."

"I would die, Sinclaire."

"I need you to Suzanne."

Suzanne no longer flashed the light in Sinclaire's face. Instead, it fell to the ground when he pulled her close to him and rested his forehead on hers. His blue eyes pleading into her dark brown ones as the sky allowed the moon to appear above the trees.

"How are you able to be here if he is getting stronger, Sinclaire?"

Sinclaire slipped the ring on to her ring finger. Suzanne gasped. Her ring.

"He just figured out that we are really married. He is coming to terms that I didn't lie to him about his pretend life. Uncle Charlie confirmed it too. 11 years for us next week. He is fucking pissed off accusing me of making him into a bigamist. He wants me to kill him now and take over his body because prison won't suit him."

"Are we back to square one?"

Sinclaire shook his head. "It's not square one, Suzanne. Right now, he doesn't know how to love her like I love you but when he figures it out..."

"I love you so much, Sinclaire."

"You will always be all I need."

Suzanne caressed his bruised face in her hands. He was enjoying the feel of her palm against his cheek. Being present was everything to Sinclaire. The way she looked that night with that dress was more than he could ask. She was perfect. He moved his head in search of her lips and found them always ready for him.

* * *

A/N: I promise to correct any errors or improve clarity in the morning.


	36. Chapter 36

"Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real."  
 **― Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses**

* * *

"I need you to think real hard, Rick."

"You got me really confused right now, Michonne. One minute we are talking about the cookout and the next minute you are going on about a possible plot to take your life."

"I have asked you a simple question. I have asked it in the same way you explained to me about a plane on the tarmac. Better to find a problem on the ground than up in the air..."

"Not my exact words but I think it holds true for us, you and I."

"There is no us in the way I think you are suggesting. Stop it."

Rick, eyed the ring. It was the very moment Michonne had given notice.

"How did this get on my finger?" Her eyes had widen in surprise. She had lost small gaps of time. No longer months or weeks, not even days, she was pushed to do this thing that they were doing at grueling intervals. It was like standing on stage with Rick as her only audience member in what use to be a darken Improv Theatre, the lights came from the diamond that blinded her eyes. Her heart began to race.

"I put it there."

"I want it off." Michonne struggled to pull the wedding ring off of her finger. "I can't get it off."

"Then leave it alone."

"I'm not married to you." Michonne shot back.

 _"I AM_ married to you. We are married, and the sooner you get used to that idea the better. We are _All_ okay with it. The midnight train I took to get here to Georgia plans to go full speed ahead. You should be tired of riding on the last boxcar. _If_ I have to go to prison for the Façade that was performed in August-I hope you will send _ME_ a God Damn Care Package. If you can do that for Mike, I would hope you could do that for the real father of your children."

Michonne noticed the twinkle in Rick's eye.

"There's no care package. It's money on the books. I have no idea where I'm to get any extra money to send to anyone now that I am down to one job. Remember?"

"How many times have you sent money to Mike?"

"Is this Sinclaire?"

"You are talking to him, me." Rick was full of jealousy from out of nowhere. He had to find the strength to control it. The urge to put his fist through the wall was climbing if _he_ didn't get an acceptable response.

"What's going on with you?" Michonne questioned because whatever it was it was going on with her too. It was a struggle to remain calm when she felt different, saw things differently. Her perspective changed, shifted without warning.

"What's going on? I have no idea if I am coming or going or if I am him or me. What I do know is that I feel," Rick points to his chest which caged his heart before he points to his temple, "very strongly for you and it causing me to lose my Damn mind. I will reconsider medication!" Rick shouted to the Alter who he knew could hear the exchange. The air he exhaled wasn't his but a sign that Sinclair was going to take it down a notch. He didn't like the Medication that he was on the last two years. It made him forget Suzanne and his kids and cause Rick to have unfathomable resentment towards Lori.

"You have lost your mind if you think we are married. The other two nutcases maybe but you and I? Think about it I like chocolate and you prefer vanilla. We had a long talk about it in the grocery store. I was present. I caught your drift, Rick."

"We were in the ice cream aisle Michonne! I like french vanilla. Not once did I say I wouldn't want to cover it in your chocolate."

Michonne had no words to what she had just heard him say. He couldn't be unheard. She went back to struggle with the ring. The ring would not budge or her right hand refused to grip it, Suzanne was not going to allow the removal of that damn ring.

"I just told you what was in my heart." Rick was in touch with his emotions more than ever now that two people had gone missing from the cheering squad in his mind.

"Leave me alone."

Michonne gave up on the ring in frustration. A part of her was relieved that she couldn't take it off. She turned her back to him to remove the dress she realized she was wearing.

"So what are you going to go do, run off and hide? You are good at that you know. You are very good at running away, Michonne."

Rick watched the colorful dress get ripped as she stripped it from her body right before his eyes. She hurriedly tossed it in the corner of the room with ass cheeks peeking from out of a pair of boy shorts she wore underneath. Instant erection of the intense kind.

Everything that raced in his brain slowed to allow just the one burning question that he hoped he would have answered tonight, 'Are we going to have sex or not?' This was the repetitive question he was afraid he would voice aloud. The rejection would stunt him.

His need was a turn off of sorts for his pretend wife. He wanted sex often and once a day would have been the ideal compromise. Twice a day his fantasy, more than that would have been heaven in the clouds. What he wanted was to become comfortable with Lori. He had tried to get used to his hands touching her, but he had to have her permission on where to touch her. It was a bone of contention between them.

Lori felt that he should know how and that he didn't need her to say it was okay, just do it!

Without expressed consent, it was a turn-off for him and having to continually provide encouragement didn't get Lori hot and bothered either.

Michonne was different. To have her consent made him heady and full of lust that would blind him soon. He had to keep his wits about him. He breathed in slowly and exhaled hoping to disperse some of his energy that still lingered from the kiss out in the field when he had gone to retrieve her from out of the darkness to come back in the house, safe. His eyes followed her every movement in the bedroom. He watched her climb into the bed that they have been sharing for the last four nights. She hadn't given him a second glance as she covered her body with the thin bed sheet.

Rick stood at the foot of the bed throbbing for an intimate connection. He was under her spell, or it could have been the influence of losing a couple of Alters that made him painfully aware to the excruciating point that he needed a cold shower or a quick dip in the River. The river...

His weight caused the bed to squeak, he fell upon his back, his head resting on the pillow. His body on top of a small portion of the sheet she used to hideaway.

The stain on the ceiling seemed more significant including the peeling drywall. The brown encasing the white, similar to a scab requesting or enticing a removal from the skin. Rick eventually closed his eyes to prevent himself from getting up to tear away the layers that were in wait, begging for him to repair, to make new again. Fresh.

Michonne opened her eyes.

Rick realized the game after a few moments of the back and forth. Her eyes were closed. He counted seconds before they would flutter open. He shut his eyes the moment hers would open.

"Stop looking at me."

Michonne took the sheet and covered her face more from his view.

Rick waited no more than a minute before lifting it slightly from her head to peer inside.

"You aren't hot?"

"No."

"I was thinking about getting an AC unit installed."

"Uncle Charlie won't allow it."

"Why not?"

"Electric bill."

"I will take care of the bill."

"What kind of card do you have?"

"We are back on that?"

"What limit is on it?"

"Limit?"

"Credit card limit. I may not have credit, but I have had plenty of people in my check out line with Decline."

Rick closed the sheet down over Michonne's face. He allowed her to relish in the warm darkness that she much preferred. Rick breathed in the warmth and humidity in the air. This was going to be another night without sex he surmised with a heavy sigh.

Michonne moved the sheet from her face to watch him. She needed him visible if they were going to have a conversation.

The game of pretending was officially over.

"I want to have a talk about what kind of credit card you have and-"

"Go in my wallet and look at it. I gave it to you in the car to look at it so you can see for yourself."

"Your wallet is in the nightstand drawer on your side."

"I know."

Michonne was suspicious of why he wouldn't just reach for his own wallet and hand it to her.

Rick wondered if Michonne was going to get up or climb over him. He had eagerly hoped that she would press her body against his to open the drawer, she did not, Michonne did not move from her spot.

"I want you to cut this off." Michonne referred to the ring on her left ring finger.

"I won't."

"Why?"

"Because you are my wife."

"You have a wife."

"I thought I did. Memories are swimming in my head. I feel strongly about it all, Michonne."

"What memories?"

"The one about the River. You almost drowned. I rescued you. Carried you out of the water."

"I would have never drowned. I know how to swim. You lie."

"It's the reason for this scar and the one that you have on your ankle." He pointed to the healed over scar that was on his hand. "Your left ankle was caught between some rocks and your pant leg was snagged by a branch. The branch cut your upper thigh pretty bad. You have a scar there too. I was with you. I wanted to know you. We walked the railroad tracks. It was me, you, Daryl, and Shane. I asked Daryl if he was your guy. I had a feeling he liked you."

"He didn't like me. He was protecting me from you."

"I asked him if you were his girl. He said you didn't like guys like that. That was his response to me. He asked me what I wanted with you and I told him I didn't know if I like girls like that."

The more he spoke, the more Michonne was able to recall the moment of actually drowning.

"You didn't want me to follow you."

"You looked crazy with those dreadlocks."

"I was crazy about you."

"I told you to stop following me. I almost drowned because you scared Michonne. She doesn't like to be followed."

Michonne spoke of herself through The Third Person. The third person was Onne. Onne did not like boys nor men. Onne was stirred from his slumber. Onne carried all the hurt and pain. Onne held the memories of scars that lay randomly upon Michonne's flesh and heart. He was the one that released the memory of the drowning before retreating in the darkest recesses of her mind.

"I wanted you from the first moment, but Daryl was always in the way."

"I asked him to make you go away. I told him to tell you that he was my guy."

"I wanted to be your guy."

"Why?"

"You are the only one that can look at me and see me. You are the only one that can see me when I am the most me."

Those very words caught Michonne off guard before she could retreat into the dark room located in her mind. The door was locked. Padlocked.

The entrance to the place that kept her hidden would not open on demand. She couldn't run away. Suzanne had the key. Suzanne locked her out from running away from this memory.

"I see you, Michonne. I see you, and I still want you."

"I want you to stop talking right now."

"I know you do."

"Stop."

"You've got me here. You've got me, and I need you to believe me when I tell you I won't hurt you, Michonne. If you are ever inclined to stay, I will prove it to you. I want to take care of you. I want to take care of the kids we have that didn't ask for any of this. I can make a way for us. I know there is a need. I know what _you_ need, and if you just let me try to give it to you, you will be surprised, Michonne. You and the kids are All I Need, and you have always been All I want."

"Why don't I remember?"

Michonne began to cry as she searched for memories to attach to the most intense feeling she had towards a man that was a stranger but he and what she felt wasn't _unfamiliar_.

Fear squeezed her heart and crept through her mind like a Dementia Patient with Alzheimer's. I know this feeling but why do I feel this...?

"Don't cry Michonne."

Every corpse of long ago Alters rose from the dead before burning to ashes, leaving behind memories, bittersweet, conversations, hand holding, first kiss. Levels of intimacy re-attached and reaffirmed as her own. This was hers.

One that didn't participate in the enlightenment held all the things that happened when she was a little girl in her Granny's home, the church and the Red Neck Hollar. It was the one that Michonne wasn't even aware of when he took over, moments ago, Onne.

Suzanne was nowhere in sight. It was the first time she began to wonder if she was her or if she was her and had it always been that way?

Rick wanted to touch her face as he moved off his pillow to be closer to her. His hands hovered close to her cheek waiting for permission to touch, to proceed in helping wipe the tears from running across her nose in a never-ending stream.

"Can I please touch you?"

Without thought or consideration to what he was asking, Michonne shook her head, no.

"Please?"

She refused him.

Rick did something that he gave no thought or consideration, he knew she was in need as much as he needed to connect. He had made contact anyway without the use of his hands. He kissed her.

His movement was awkward, but he traveled the inches and kissed her closed eyelids that were wet with tears, the cool moisture slowly absorbed into his lips.

She didn't refuse him or strike him. He did it again.

Michonne didn't tell him to stop, and before he knew it her eyes were open, her expression held the look of wonder and curiosity. Touched.

His lips may have touched her eyelids, but it was felt by her heart that pounded within the walls of her chest. His advances had her heart racing, and she saw nothing but sincerity in his blue eyes.

"Please?"

"I'm scared."

Rick had taken the back of his hand and caressed the side of her face. He could feel the contact caused her to tremble. His mind was cloudy. Overthinking went out the window, and additional permission wasn't sought, he was going to kiss her as Rick. The idea of a fully aware Michonne had him so full of something he couldn't name at the time other than, this took years in the making.

Knock Knock. The door slowly crept open.

Romeo and Juliet were halted in officially becoming one in their host body's.

"Mama, I can't sleep."

The spell was broken between the two adults who rose from their position to observe a five-year-old Andre wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Why can't you sleep, baby?"

"Had a bad dream."

"Come. Come over to Mama."

"I need to sleep with you."

"Come on."

Rick was speechless. His mind was going into overdrive. A young child in the same bed with him? He didn't realize he was shaking his head until Michonne spoke.

"Lay next to me and tell me about your dream."

Andre climbed into bed next to his mother and snuggled inside the sheet with her.

"I don't want Daddy to leave us."

"What?" Rick questioned.

Michonne shushed the man that was still sitting up. Her back was to him. He didn't like it. Michonne was comfortable enough to do it.

"Do you know where your Daddy is?"

Michonne was curious about what her son was thinking or his thoughts because his Daddy was in jail. She knew this was going to be hard for Andre when the other 7 kids have their real Daddy while his father was still locked up.

Andre sat up and pointed to Rick.

"You damn straight! Now come over here, son."

Andre eagerly climbed over his mother to his Daddy to snuggle up with him with his small head resting on his father's arm like a pillow as they got into a comfortable sleeping position.

"How old are you, Andre?"

"Five, Daddy."

"Old enough to know that you belong to me. Always will belong to me. I am your Daddy. You got my blood running through your veins. My blood and don't let no one tell you otherwise. We don't do pretend. We do for real around here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"What am I saying to you?"

"You are my Daddy!"

"My son is smart."

"I am very smart. Uncle Charlie said he never saw kids in his life that can cursive write like us."

"Uncle Charlie's approval?"

Andre nodded.

Rick watched Michonne turn to face them. Andre was in between them happy to be close to his Daddy.

"You had a bad dream?" Rick questioned Andre.

"Yes."

"I want to make this very clear to you son and you can pass it on to your brothers and sisters or tell them if they have questions they can come and ask me. I'm not going anywhere. I am going to fight for this." Rick motioned from him to Michonne and back. "I think you can rest assure I was close to a victory before you came knocking on the door."

"You and Mama fighting?"

"No, Baby, we aren't fighting." Michonne reassured Andre by caressing his arm.

"It's a different kind of fight, son." Rick informed the young boy dressed in Superman PJs that were a size too small.

"What kind is it?"

"I want your Mama. I don't want no one else, and it's been that way for a long time. Way before there were a you and the rest of your siblings."

"You want my Mama?"

"I do, and you want to know something?"

"Yes."

"Every time I look at your Mama, and then I look at each one of you kids, it is apparently evident that there was a lot of love and effort orchestrated to create every single one of you. I have to make a conscious effort to be present to guide and set an example. I can't do it hiding and not actively participating. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

Andre glanced over at his mother who was sniffling and then back at his Daddy with an honest response.

"No."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm home. I'm here. I'm YOUR Daddy."

Sinclaire emphasized his possessiveness for it to ring true in Michonne's ear.

"Can you tell me a story, Daddy?"

"I have a story about how I met your Mama. You want to hear it?"

Andre was excited. He was sleepy too. The young boy had more similar features to his Daddy than Michonne cared to admit but was forced to acknowledge with them both lying together.

Andre made it to the part about his Mama fainting at the grocery store when the sandman unexpectedly sent him off to dreamland.

The morning sun rose high in the sky. Rick awoke to the feel of tiny fingers holding on to his earlobe. Andre was still fast asleep. Rick didn't realize that _he too_ had fallen asleep until then. He had become aware that his pinky finger was connected to Michonne's as if they had made some type of pinky promise before sleeping, he didn't remember if they had, but they were joined in that way.

He had his son, Andre sleeping between him and Michonne. The idea of it was no longer bad. Nothing terrible happened nor would he had allowed anything to happen. This was a healthy connection.

The scent of biscuits indicated another lapse of time. Rick watched Michonne instruct their son to follow the morning routine of washing up and meeting in the kitchen. Andre did as was told but not before encasing his Daddy in a tight hug when he received something no other kid had gotten yet from their Daddy, a kiss on the forehead.

"Now, listen to your Mama."

"Okay, Daddy!"

Rick was ready to rise from his side of the bed to get ready for the new day. He had no intentions of asking for his phone even though he still wanted to call his father and see if Lori had left a message for him, this was the day he was just going to follow Michonne's lead.

Once Andre was out of the room, Michonne had locked the bedroom door. She pulled down her boy shorts after taking off her tank top. She was totally naked walking to his side of the bed. Instantly his mind went blank, his hands reacted by opening and close fisting. The desire to grab her was intense, and he was close to giving in to it when she began stripping him naked.

She climbed on top. Her lips hovered just inches from his before she spoke and when she did, he knew he was with Michonne.

"My waist and my hips. Nothing else." She instructed.

Then she kissed him, and he couldn't control how that affected him. A moan escaped. When Michonne's lips departed from his, a desperate whimper released. He wanted more.

Rick couldn't hide his anticipation for her to lean down again and have her kiss him nor did he try to rein himself in. He bolted upward from lying prone on his back to a seated position with a slight incline, taking what he wanted using his lips, his mouth hungrily reconnected with hers.

This kiss escalated her to take him fully inside of her.

Michonne wanted that kiss at the airport, and she got it, and it had her crazy with desire for him. She was on fire as she held the side of his face and kissed him as her hips began to whip back and forth, back and forth. Bounce. Bounce, Bounce. Back and forth. Back and forth until they could no longer continue to kiss because of their panting breaths. They were ready to crescendo out of control.

Rick braced Michonne's hips from moving. He was ready to explode as he held tight driving her down to grind against his base as he shot up inside of her. His labored breathing and his staggered grunts indicated he had let loose moments before she sputtered with a whine of her own that caused shivers down his body with her mouth close to his ear. Morning Sex. He knew he was never going to leave.


	37. Chapter 37

"Trust is not a gasoline-soaked blanket that succumbs to the matches of betrayal, never able to be used for its warmth again; it's a tapestry that wears thin in places, but can be patched over if you have the right materials, circumstances, and patience to repair it. If you don't, you're always the one who feels the coldest when winter comes."  
 **― A.J. Darkholme, Rise of the Morningstar**

* * *

"You got to sleep with Daddy?"

"Mama, too." Andre informed with a bright smile.

"Wow!"

Abigail and Billie Jo were wide eyed. This was an idea never considered by any of the children.

"Oooh."

"No way!" Carlton was the only one to exclaim in practical disbelief.

"We were looking all over for you, Andre. We thought for sure you were snatched." Jasmine shook her head at the thought and what it would have done to their Mama if it would have been true.

"Danger Stranger." Glady's and Knight chanted.

"What does he smell like?" Billie Jo asked.

"Soap and toothpaste. Same like, Mama." Andre bounced as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Ain't this some shit, Uncle Charlie? Kids want to know what he smells like. No damn sense. Soap and Toothpaste. Yes Indeed. Mm-Mm-Mm."

Granny sat back shocked by the smile that the old man wore on his face. The kids continued to talk to each other about the most fantastic event that Andre was more than willing to share.

"I told you that too," Carlton shot at Billie Jo. His Daddy had carried him out of the hospital he had the soap smell then.

"What did he talk about?" Jasmine wanted to know.

"How much he loves, Mama."

Every child at the table eye's were wide like saucers while they waited patiently for their, Mama and Daddy to join the breakfast table. Andre had their full attention.

"He said he met Mama at the grocery store and she fainted."

"Heaven please have a grown-up Jesus." Granny shook her head and tapped her bible.

"You had us all worried about where you could be young boy child." Uncle Charlie voice sobered the mood. The children knew when their Uncle's voice spoke they must all listen.

"Sorry, Uncle Charlie."

"What were you doing in the middle of the night hunting down your Mama, young boy child?"

Uncle Charlie questioned as he folded back the comics from a 1984 newspaper in preparation for his oldest boy child to read while they waited for two people to come from out of the back of the house and have a seat at the table. It hadn't ceased to amaze Uncle Charlie what caused the children's excitement to flit quickly from the buttermilk biscuits hot from the oven to where Andre laid his head that night.

"I had a bad dream."

"What have I always told you about bad dreams, Andre?" Granny lightly squeezed the young boys hand.

"Say the Lord Prayer." Andre answered.

"Amen. Don't ever let the Devil know you afraid. He will try to use it against you. The Lord's prayer makes him run away from your mind. Now tell us what that darn devil got you dreaming about so we can put an end to it."

Granny would normally be the person burdened with the children's thoughts and dreams through out the day and night when Michonne wasn't present or the flower dress was zipping about trying to figure out how to send a smoke signal to a long gone Daddy.

"I had a dream that my Daddy wanted to leave from here and we couldn't stop him from going."

This had Carlton the most choked up. He had to have answers to ease his mind, he was the only one to venture to ask the question immediately, "What did our Daddy say when you told him?"

"He said he ain't going nowhere and that our Mama can't chase him away. He said he's the Daddy to every child at this table." Andre repeated with the same forcefulness as his Daddy had spoken.

"For true?" Uncle Charlie smirked.

"Yes indeed. That had to be news to your Mama if she was in _that_ room. Whooo lord, Child. Peace be still I say. Peace be still." Granny commanded to the atmosphere.

"What did your Mama say to that, young boy child?"

Uncle Charlie's face wore the look of suspense because of what this information could provide. The old man also realized that this indicated that the Craigslist fella had to have been two people in that bedroom which would have meant the response to how many children would show who was responding, oldest Girl Child or the one in the flower dress.

"She didn't say anything."

"We still dealing with Flower Child. Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm."

Uncle Charlie didn't make any comment. Nothing he could think of would bring any value to a confusing situation. To him no response was a good sign. A sign of acceptance.

"He's my Daddy, your Daddy, your Daddy..." Marty said eight times while questions were hurled to Andre about what it was like to be in the bedroom with their Daddy.

Uncle Charlie shook his head and placed his attention back on Andre who was looking very refreshed with his growing bush of curly hair that was more coarse than the other children at the table, but the ringlets were the same as the rest of them.

Jasmine Amber Jean questioned from across the table. "What did Mama say about you coming into her room like that in the night?"

"You got to sleep with my Daddy, My turn next." Marty made his call known to everyone to where he was going to lay his head when night fall came.

Andre frowned at his little brother as he decided to answer his sister. In that very moment a loud voice from outside distracted everyone at the kitchen table.

"Ho. Ho. Ho. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas Children! I got something special for you. Especially for you Abigail. Come on outside and see what I have." The male voice shouted.

The shout was loud enough to be heard from where they all sat. All of the children were on high alert and ready to bolt, but were immediately told to stay at the table by their Uncle Charlie.

Uncle Charlie had barely pushed his chair from the table when he halted upon seeing the children's real Daddy step into the kitchen with a wary look.

"Who in the hell is that?" Rick stood waiting for an answer from anyone that was seated at the breakfast table.

He had noticed something was different about his very own gait and stance. This had never happened to him before where he wasn't sure if **he** was him or if he was **him**. His vision was blurred for less than a second, he had to tilt his head from side to side to gain his equilibrium.

"Can we go see, Daddy?" Abigail and Billie Jo inquired for them all.

"If any of you get up from this table when a stranger calls on you and without my expressed permission or from your Mama there is going to be two people very very disappointed. Now behave and stop the sounds you are making. I provide what you need and the things you want. No one else. No one else."

The last two sentence echoed of Sinclaire and Rick in agreement.

"Y'all better listen to your Daddy. Sit your asses right in them those chairs, ya hear?" Granny grinned, pleased with authority.

Uncle Charlie and Granny shared a look while the children slowly gave up sulking and moaning their discontent when their Daddy told them to stop.

"Where's the shotgun, Granny?" Uncle Charlie wanted to make sure it was out of reach.

"Put away like you told me, Uncle Charlie." Granny eyed the old man at the other end of the table as if his memory was something to worry about.

"Good. Got two trigger happy people in the house now you know."

"You make three." Granny tallied for the old man.

"For true." Uncle Charlie agreed.

"Can we go see, Daddy?" Abigail pleaded. "Mr. Bob says he was going to bring back a doll for me. A pretty one. He says I am the prettiest one he's ever seen."

Rick was startled by any of his children having favor because of their looks. Who was looking for beauty in a little girl to make her known as the prettiest? If he gave thought to it he could see why possibly but he thought Jasmine looked more like her Mama. His features he didn't find suitable for a girl and Abigail and Billi Joe had more variation of him in their facial structure while Jasmine only carried his nose and Gladys was the lightest after Jasmine and could be considered more him too or was he looking at Knight?

Sinclaire spoke he was impatient with Rick. "Prettiest? All of you girls are pretty. You have your Mama to thank for that. You don't need anyone to tell you something that you should already know."

Uncle Charlie's blood pressure was elevated. It was true that Abigail was a beautiful girl with her hair the way it was and her skin lighter than honey but to repeat what a drunkard told her to a man that has no qualms with shooting a man dead was a dangerous thing to do. Usually, all it would take was for Suzanne to tell him that the man outside had hurt her at some point before the Red Neck Hollar and that PTSD individual shouting Merry Christmas could mark that morning as his last day living and breathing.

"No such thing as prettiest when judging daughters of a man, like your Daddy standing there. Take note girl child." Uncle Charlie's tone was gruff causing Abigail to regret she spoke.

"Tell that girl child again. Tell her one more time. Mouth open like a fish. Scary thing when devils speak the truth."

Granny patted her bible on her lap as she rocked because she caught the spirit that was standing in the kitchen with that devilish blue-eyed twinkle.

"Who is Mr. Bob to this family?"

"No one, now that you here," Granny responded back and informed with a little more detail, "Mr. Bob lives nearest the gas station on the other side of the road. He says he has PTSD from the war."

"War?" Rick rested his hand on his hip, placing more weight on one leg than the other.

"The oil war. You know that PTSD means Partial to Satan's Demons." Granny spoke directly to Uncle Charlie to make him aware of that thing that war people were coming back with to influence others to stay on the devil frequency.

"Partial to Satan's demons?" Sinclaire studied the old woman who seemed to recognize him by the way she held his gaze.

"I've never been partial. Not like you and that woman in the flower dress." Granny added quick, "Michonne too."

"My oldest Girl Child Granny!" Uncle Charlie had a short fuse when it came to Granny taking digs at Michonne in the religious way. He still was hoping to get his hands on that Ezekiel from when the church was named God's Kingdom. He had a bullet carved out for him. Yes, indeed.

"Billie Jo! Gladys! Marty! Knight!" Mr. Bob called from outside.

"Why is he here? Why is he around my children to know their names?" Rick tried to take a reasonable approach and if he wasn't any closer to finding the answers that way, Sinclaire was ready err on the violent approach.

"Call it what it is and shame the Devil, I say."

"Should be no shame in things they can't help, Granny." Uncle Charlie snapped back.

"I am going out there to tell him July is for fireworks if he doesn't take heed I need y'all to go on an eat without me because I will be out back digging a grave."

All eyes were on him as he exited and all eyes were on Coveralls making a rare appearance.

Sinclaire stepped outside while Onne entered the kitchen.

Onne dressed in coveralls turned the empty chair backward and sat across from Gladys and Knight who both gasped and took off from the table headed to their room. She had her left hand haphazardly bandaged but used it to grab a biscuit. The rest of the children looked to Uncle Charlie who nodded giving everyone at the table permission to eat.

Granny didn't say a word she quietly got up from the table to retrieve the twins to bring them back to the kitchen once the worst of the demons seated, took leave.

"What happened to your hand?" Uncle Charlie rested his elbows on the table while he watched the children and Onne make more of a mess of things.

Onne shrugged.

"You don't know what happened to your hand?"

"I've got something stuck on my finger. Don't want to frighten anyone."

"Well, what's your plan today?"

"Going to Daryl's to work. I got a car that has been to hell, and I'm trying to bring it back to life."

"It's been a long time since you been around. What be your reason now?"

"Heard some terrible news about Daryl is all."

"That's it?"

"He's going to need my help with repairs if he got the beat down that I heard about it. I see all these kids are still here." Onne took notice just then.

"Where did you think they would be?"

Onne shrugged. She was eating as if she hadn't eaten in years, Uncle Charlie watched her gulp down a glass of milk and wipe the mustache with the back of her hand.

The kids knew to keep quiet around the mechanic. Uncle Charlie had told them to always stay quiet and take note. Onne was a presence that one could go a lifetime and never want to see again and be okay. Onne was more detrimental than essential. Suzanne could speed things up 10 paces, and Onne could set a good thing back 20.

"He's here." Uncle Charlie forewarned.

"Shit has to stop, Uncle Charlie. He got her knocked up again. Ain't right."

"How long you've known?"

"From the first night here and what they were doing in the field didn't help any."

"In the field last night?" It was the only time Uncle Charlie knew about a field with the kids Daddy going to bring Suzanne back in the house. Last night would mark a quick pregnancy if he was understanding what Onne was trying to relay to him.

"Nah, old man. In the field where she tried to run his ass over with that fancy ass car. It was that one hump, game over. Score! Touch Down. Boom, Boom, Boom. Shit's crazy. Broad is crazy."

Uncle Charlie couldn't decipher what was being told to him about a field and the children's Daddy being potentially ran over by the car outside. What he did know and what was clear to him was that his Girl Child was pregnant again.

"What you plan to do?" Uncle Charlie glanced at each child and could see they had no understanding of what was being discussed. If Granny were there, it wouldn't be a discussion at the table no how. It would be a full blown exorcism with everyone getting wet with the flailing of holy water and oil.

"Why are you asking me? I'm not, nor will I ever carry a child. Men can't carry babies."

"What do you think, the flower girl would want?"

"She would keep popping them out but she ain't the one who's expecting."

"Flower girl isn't, then who is?" Uncle Charlie questioned cautiously watching Onne stuff two more strips of bacon in her mouth.

"Crazy ass, Michonne."

* * *

A/N: I made a slight correction to Chapter Thirty Six. A sentence was dancing with another. Yikes.

I wanted to also say thank you to the guest that wrote about the healing power of love. It is very true. It is fascinating how we all find ways to cope with trauma and it is different for everyone. Thank you!

If anyone else is incognito or Signed in I appreciate you all for taking the time to read and enjoy a stretched out tale. Thank you for reading and reviewing or just reading. I am off to update Peace through Chaos and then tinker around with Tumblr for a couple of hours. I am going to figure that blogging out so help me GOD!


	38. Chapter 38

"I can't protect you without holding a sword. I can't embrace you while holding a sword."  
 **― Tite Kubo, Bleach, Volume 05**

* * *

Sinclaire stepped down from the porch steps. He grabbed the shovel that was up against the broken stair rail holding it as if it was a baseball bat resting on his shoulders, locking eyes with the thin looking African American man with a grocery cart half full of toys. He could smell the alcohol the closer he approached the man that was seeking his children.

"What's your name?"

"My name is Bob Stookey. I'm from the United States armed services. I was a doctor."

"What are you now?"

"I'm Santa. I've got some toys from around the way here, and I wanted to give it to the kids. They don't have much in the way of dolls."

"They and dolls? My boys wouldn't be interested in dolls unless you know something I don't."

"You funny man. I got trucks for the boys, some board games they can all enjoy. I have something for-"

Bob Stookey stopped himself based on the feeling he got from the look he received from the white man that favored all of the children.

Rick spied the brand new boxed Barbie in the man's hand while everything else in the cart appeared rusty, used, dirty. Sinclaire's tone was laced and heated and Bob could feel the sobering effects from each word that was enunciated succinctly.

"I **_want_ **to focus on the doll, but I want to hear first what business you have with my kids?"

"Who are you?"

The words My kids weren't lost on Bob Stookey, but he too wanted to hear with his own two ears.

"What business you have with my kids?"

Bob glanced towards the house and back into the eyes that were turning darker than a thunderous blue sky, causing him to move the cart closer to himself to create or keep a safe distance.

"What business you have with my kids?"

"No business. I have no business. No business at all."

"If you ever come around here again asking for my Abigail I will kill you when no one is looking. It won't be a quick death by any means, but I will fucking kill-."

The piercing screams from inside of the house had Rick heading back taking two steps at a time. In the hall that led to the kitchen, he found Granny with his suitcase trying to hush Gladys and Knight who were begging to be picked back up by her.

"What's going on?"

The twins ran to their Daddy, and Rick lifted them both up high enough to carry and for them to bury their faces in his neck.

"The demon has taken over. Every time it happens the devil got her overwhelmed with thoughts. She packed up and leaving. I stumbled on this suitcase here in the hallway. When it happens, we try to hide it from her or put a bunch of the flower girl dresses in here real quick. If not she will be gone from here a long time. May not come back."

Rick couldn't understand what was happening until it stood right in front of him.

"Leave the suitcase right there, Granny."

Granny did as told. She stepped to take the twins from Rick, he shook his head the more the babies clung to him. He was able to manage, and Granny stepped back bracing for the Devil Wrath.

Rick was face to face with Onne.

"Good. You are here. You can take over or take them all from here. This is not a place for children."

"Boogeyman, Daddy."

Rick heard what Knight whispered, and it caused concern. A big concern.

"Why are they afraid of you?"

"Because I am the only one that reminds them that the Boogeyman is real. They need to believe me because I had no one to believe me."

Onne had her eyes on Granny standing next to the suitcase.

"I had a boogeyman that came in my room, and Granny over there didn't believe me. Thought I was messing up a good thing. Thought I was lying until she caught the boogeyman in my bed. Uncle Charlie shot him some time long ago, Pow. Dead. She wants to believe the devil than just blame the heart of Men. Really confused the old lady when I wasn't even safe in the church. Testimonial she gave blasted everybody. People got up started leaving. Shame the Devil, Granny?' Onne laughed heartily.

Unexpected presentation of pain, memories, unresolved hurts was hurled to Rick but received in the ear of Sinclaire while slicing Granny to bits and pieces.

"We are going to have to have a long talk about it. I don't like you scaring our kids. Home is where they are most safe. They got you, and they got me. Granny has been here when the load was more than you should have been doing all by yourself. Uncle Charlie has been doing what he could, and you can't tell me you don't know how much that old man in there cares about you. Do you understand what he means when he says you are his Girl Child? He's your Daddy. And I am the Daddy to all of them. Uncle Charlie protects you now because he couldn't protect you then. I'm here to protect my sons and daughters because that is what a Good Daddy does. You can't do it all by yourself."

He could see that his words were heard based on the slightest shift in demeanor and then it was just the person dressed as a mechanic.

"You are going to have to find their mother. She got some news that has disturbed her, and I am not in the business of playing house. I've got a job to do. I have cars waiting for me to repair. Now I will get my suitcase and head out. I have a grocery cart that will have me out of the way of this zoo and down the road until I can hitch a ride to town.

"That's my suitcase."

"You expect me to carry a woman's suitcase?"

"I expect you to stay here."

"I am not who you think I am man."

"Do you know who I am?"

"Do you really think I am crazy or deaf? You say you are the father of all these Goddamn kids. Now go on and be the Daddy. I'm out."

Onne grabbed the suitcase. Sinclaire wanted to put the twins down to stop his woman from leaving, but Rick wouldn't let him. He held on to the twins who clung to him for safety. He watched Onne run down the distance to the retreating grocery cart and jump in on top of the things, her legs dangling upward and out while holding on to the suitcase. Bob pushed her towards town.

"Got to let her go." Uncle Charlie came into the hall. He handed Granny a paper towel to wipe her tears and one for Rick to wipe the faces of the twins.

"What happened?" Rick was genuinely bewildered

"It is what happens when you come back, or she comes across a bad memory. Could be anything."

Uncle Charlie resisted telling the Daddy that he was going to be a Daddy again with Granny standing there. The news would have to be given to Granny in private.

"My Girl Child's guard is up. No devil got anything to do with all that she is feeling. She's going to wait for you to get overwhelmed which will prove her right when she finally does decide to come back from where ever she has run off to. This is all that I think is in her mind. Onne works on engines, so he says, but I think that means there are more things he's trying to bury down deep to keep from coming up from under the hood. I like to think that Onne is helping Michonne to prepare for the day today. Another part of me thinks what ever it is must be terrifying if the Mechanic is walking around."

"I wish that mind would rest some. Stirring up the past."

"I'm glad you stayed quiet, Granny. You see how that worked out? You respond to it makes it worse when all she wants you to do is listen."

"I'm putting you two down," Rick spoke to the twins that finally removed their faces from the crook of his neck.

"No." The two protested.

"Yes."

"Nooooo."

"Yes. Let me wipe your faces."

They did as told. They were staring in awe of him, their Daddy who was down on his knees talking to them. They really didn't have any idea what he was saying to them but they listened.

"Daddy is going to have a long day today. I have to figure out where my keys are and phone. I need to have someone come and pick up my car, and I need to buy a car. Well, maybe a van. Never thought there would be a day I would be in a market for buying one and then again with all of you probably needing car seats-probably a school bus."

Rick was feeling overwhelmed but not deterred.

Granny laughed after wiping her tears, "You do that. We need to get up and out more often. Would love to go to that cookout that the kids say we are all invited to. God knows all we need is a change of circumstances to change the atmosphere. Peace be Still, I says."

"Yes, indeed." Uncle Charlie agreed waiting for the twins to take his hand and follow him into the kitchen with Rick a couple of beats behind them. Rick was confused and puzzled about what was said about the cookout.

Granny made way to the kitchen to find the kids making a mess of the jelly and most everything else.

"Now looka here!"

* * *

A/N: You guys have no idea how this makes me very happy that this is a story that catches your imagination and pulls at your desires to continue the journey.

P.S.

Working on so many fics at once that I have lost track and find myself having to re-read them to know-what the heck? I have to step back to re-evaluate. Peace Through Chaos has taken a leap and I want to make sure it fits by stepping back for a day or two longer. Same with Devil is a Liar. Devil is a liar will cause heads to scratch but I think it is going to be quite funny. I may be the only one tickled but never the less. I will close out The Corners We Turn with two more chapters. Proofreading it now.


	39. Chapter 39

"Absolute nakedness was intrusive, confusing to the senses. Paradoxically, it both revealed and diminished identity."  
 **― P.D. James, Innocent Blood**

* * *

"I hope you washed your hands when making this?" Onne questioned Eugene.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" Daryl struggled out of the bathroom of his trailer to make his way to the kitchen table where supper was ready in a big pot prepared by his brother Eugene. Onne was sitting at the table with a bowl of chili. "Asking my brother if he washed his hands? Did you wash yours?"

Onne took a long look at Daryl, "You need to learn how to fight. I don't understand how'd you let him get the best of you if you had a weapon."

Daryl eyed the mechanic sitting across from him. Eugene found no reason to answer to the cleanliness of his hands. They all sat at the card table that was also the dinner table inside of the trailer of Daryl's home located on the outskirts of the Red Neck Hollar.

Onne kept eating waiting for details to what took place and why. Cleanliness was really a nonfactor because he found the chili was good enough, and he was hungry enough.

"He got you good."

"He fucking did. His crazy ass moves fast. Nothing fucking changed. Says I need to bring a gun for next time. You fucking sitting here is guaranteeing a next damn time."

The pain that Daryl experienced from his sore ribs and the muscle bruising, in general, caused him to wince as he tried to reach for the Ladle.

"You better bring a semi-automatic if your fighting is any indication how you shoot. Pow. Pow." Onne used his two fingers and thumb.

"Bang. Bang." Eugene added for good measure. The two always played off each other, from watching gay porn together with a strange but similar detachment and reading comic books.

"You need to learn to fight."

"I want to know where he learned to fight? I had a fucking crowbar. Eugene says if he catches you, I mean the flower girl here, or Michonne he will shoot and I better have a gun. I am going to ask you again, why are you here?"

"I wouldn't be here if I knew where you put the key to the shop."

"You don't work there anymore. Do you understand that at all? Are you trying to get my brains blown out? Fuck!"

"I need a place to stay."

"You have to be shitting me? You come up in here with a bandaged hand. Eugene removes the wrapping and what do we see? A goddamn ring that is more than my trailer. You ask Eugene to cut it off, and his dumbass would have more than likely tried to do it because you told him to. Then we would have that fucking bastard that you're married to magically appear. He's amped and ready to have killed off my whole damn bloodline, with me included. My Daddy is gone. A couple of my brothers. A few in the Hollar but I'd be damn if I am going to allow you to lead that motherfucker back here to finish the job that he is itching to finish."

"Two men can't get married."

"Yes, they can."

"Not when they both aren't in agreement."

"From what I remember, Michonne was warming up to him. He saved your black ass from drowning when I couldn't. He was the one that held his breath the longest and got your leg free."

"Daryl said he carried you out of the water like a hero." Eugene smiled for a second before his face went all serious like he wasn't interested in the conversation. He resumed his comic book reading while gulping the Chili from his spoon.

The sound of the door had Daryl on edge as Bob entered holding a brown paper bag. The grocery cart was parked right outside.

"Fuck man, announce yourself. I've got a madman that is going to sniff this area soon, and I don't have a fucking gun to even look like I was fucking prepared for death."

"God damn you are a fucking pussy." Onne was disgusted with his cowardice.

"Says...?" Daryl left that hanging there. He knew that Onne caught his drift for he was the only one with a real pussy.

"I will take heed." Mr. Bob advised Daryl. "I had to buy a whole nother bottle of this Tennessee whiskey because I could almost taste death and all I wanted to do was replace the Barbie. Spent some of my drinking money to do it."

"Leave me alone Bob. It was a lesson. Girls need to learn a lesson that they can't just rely on looks. No other way to teach them than to show them how to deal in our man's world."

"They are little girls Onne, and that was Abigail's doll. Why you do that to her Barbie Doll makes no sense."

"What you do?" Daryl was curious.

"Nothing."

Daryl knew not to push, and he didn't. He was going to leave it alone.

"I have a daughter. Her name is Akira. The last time I've seen her was five years ago. She would be 10 now. I have no way to get back to her or how to contact her. It's like her, and her mother just dropped off the face of the earth. It feels like that, and there is something about missing out on her growing that makes me feel a certain way." Bob crumpled the brown paper bag once he had removed the bottle.

"You stop drinking and save up your money, you can get a ticket back to Japan and see them. Ain't nobody dropped off the face of the earth, but you to them." Daryl watched Bob grab a bowl and the Ladle to help himself to some Chili.

"You can't stay here Onne."

"Why not?"

"Because I want to live. I want to see another day. I can see his point. I understand it, and I'm tired of thinking about it and having the shit eat me up inside. Looking back, I knew what was up. At that time I was only 14 years old. I wasn't connecting dots like a grown man would. I didn't see the bigger picture. All I knew was that I was tired of having it taken from me. I was tired and relieved I could be left alone..." Everyone at the table put down their spoons including Onne who stepped aside for Michonne to hear. This was for Michonne to gain understanding if any could be obtained from Daryl's memories or from his words or even understood. Michonne was pushed forward to hear, to listen and Suzanne was off to the side trying to figure out how to relay it all to Sinclaire.

"Looking at it now hurts more than the beat down that I got a couple of days ago. It hurts to know that I allowed something to happen to someone that I love like a sister, like my blood. I feel personally responsible to you and Eugene. Reason number one why I don't have a gun because I would have blown my brains out a long time ago. Looking at it, how he sees it, I can understand why I am to blame...

Michonne rose from the river after a very long time of floating on her back. A great deal of time had lapsed again.

She would never have any memory of taking off the oiled stained coveralls nor an awareness that Daryl was standing guard. Daryl was there for a long while before deciding to take what cloaked her, made her masculine. The responsibility didn't outweigh his commitment to helping Michonne with a solution that he knew was going to be very slow to resolve itself. He watched her emerge and walk toward her home. He shifted his direction with the river between them. The Redneck Hollar engulfed his shadow. His steps led him to a place where he would never find any peace.

There was nothing she could do to keep her mind from creating new demons or blowing life into the ashes. Glimpses of the flowers were off in the distance, blowing in the soft winds, realizing the heaviness of the air if she remained immobilized by fear. Fear of the unknown. The thirteen-year-old wasn't sure why she was in the woods and having to carry her four-year-old self. This mental picture had her Frantic to flee keeping her eyes on the darkening sky squeezing away the last colors of purple and orange hues, blues appearing black. Her only guide was the flowers bright in the darkness. Daisies lined the path, Suzanne's favorite. How could she trust Suzanne at a time like this, flowers, pretty dresses, distractions from the dangers that lurked around every shadowy corner? Or was the Shadow, hiding more of the mysteries from her?

"My Girl Child!"

Uncle Charlie was surprised to see her on the same day she was carted away. She never came back the same day if she was the mechanic and she never came back the way she did just then. This sight caused his heart to go missing in his chest, the visual almost knocked the wind out of him. He struggled to stand, he searched for quick understanding, he was getting old but never tired.

The way the light from the moon shone upon her nude body he wasn't sure if it was a spirit or his girl child. He had no idea who it could be standing before him in all her nakedness. His first worry was if she was hurt, next to why? For him, they were one and the same if he were to think about the weight of things, who harmed her and what led to this?

He put his shotgun down on the Rocker and step down from the porch assured there was no immediate danger. It was way past his bedtime but he would not rest until she came back safely to him. He was prepared to keep vigil.

"You hurt?"

Her response was a strangled whisper, "no."

"Where your clothes be?"

"I don't know." Her voice cracked, opening the dam to release aches seeking relief in way of tears.

She began to cry. Her hand covered her mouth and her arm only successfully shielding one breast while her hand tried to hide her privates down below.

Standing before her, Uncle Charlie had never felt so helpless.

"What you want me to do, My Girl Child?"

"Can you hold me, Daddy?"

"My Girl child." He stepped forward to have her fall into his arms that were still strong enough to hold her up from falling limp. "My Girl Child." He repeated, holding her tightly to him.

She had passed out cold seconds later.

Rick held the Black Barbie with her hair chopped, arm broken off, dress tattered. The story that Abigail told him had him unprepared to feel his own emotions that connected to dark things that hurt and actually go bump in the night. He lost so much time alternating from Sinclaire he felt dizzy. It was after 11:30pm when the door to the bedroom opened Six times, and it wasn't his woman, it wasn't Michonne. The going theme, he wasn't aware was rehearsed from Andre divulged from a private meeting held in Carlton's bedroom.

"Daddy, I can't sleep. I had a bad dream." Marty rubbed his eyes like Andre said he had done.

"Come on."

Knock Knock (creak)  
Knock Knock (creak)  
Knock (Creak)  
Knock Knock (creak)

Tap (creak)

Rick realized he would need to remember WD40. The sound was becoming too much.

The twins were the very last to enter in SpongeBob matching PJs that were too big.

"Stranger Danger."

Rick tilted his head unsure what his Gladys and son Knight were alluding too or if he was still a stranger they feared.

Sinclaire asked, "In here or out there?"

Their answer was never provided verbally, but their actions indicated Stranger Danger wasn't in the bedroom with him, he helped them both who were struggling to climb and find a spot for comfort on the bed. Marty had already claimed a spot on his lap, his head resting on his chest fast asleep while Andre was on one side of him and Jasmine Amber Jean fought for his right side from Abigail. Rick noticed that Billi Jo and Carlton were flexible or too exhausted regarding the day they had earlier to care just as long as they had their Daddy was enough.

The fuss died down and all eyes closed when comfort was found.

Michonne didn't know how she ended up in the spare room. Her naked body concerned her. She took the white sheet and wrapped it around her body to go to her bedroom. Opening the door, she wasn't sure what she was seeing in the dimly lit room before it became evident that there were children that found her room a place to possibly loiter until they littered all over her bed in every position closest to the man that had every emotion that moved to the forefront of his face when he saw her standing there.

She was standing in the bedroom doorway wrapped in a sheet. Sinclaire couldn't get up like he wanted and Rick couldn't speak for fear that he would wake the kids. He hoped he could relay everything he needed by the tears that fell from his eyes. He was happy that she was okay. Sinclair wanted to tell her that he would have gone after her but dealing with the asshole he shared the same body with he had to control a nervous breakdown over Marty being driven away in the BMW and later pissing himself at the car dealership. HE had had a day.

Suzanne caught the blue twinkle fading away, eyes locked on each other, sharing a silent moment of tears. She picked up the twins in such a way to make room for her when Michonne thought there wasn't any space for another body seeking rest. The children were still situated between them. It didn't prevent their hands from finding a way to connect. Rick knew it was Michonne because she linked their pinky fingers before falling fast asleep.

SHE had had a day too.


	40. Chapter 40

"In healthy development, trust evolves. How do we decide whether to trust? We share a feeling with someone and watch their reaction; if the response feels safe, if it is caring, noncritical, non-abusive, the first step of trust has developed. For trust to grow, this positive response must become part of a relatively reliable pattern… Trust develops with consistency over time."  
 **― E. Sue Blume, Secret Survivors**

* * *

This was the day that Onne had taken his Woman, Michonne, out the door and ass deep inside of a grocery cart headed towards only Granny's God knew. Sinclaire was sulking. He was going to stand off to the side and let Rick make the decisions that were in the best interest to no one.

Sinclaire was only going to cause headaches if too much time passed and his woman wasn't successful in drowning the fuck out of Onne. That was their plan they schemed out in the field when Suzanne told him if she merged with Michonne then there would be no one to monitor, Onne. Michonne wasn't aware of him.

There was a couple of times Michonne woke up in Sasha's bed naked screaming bloody murder when Sasha touched her and kissed her. It was the time she was aware that confused Sasha. Sasha didn't mess around with Onne because of it and kept her door closed and locked when Onne would go banging or try and start hanging around.

"Do I need to show you how to use it?"

A flip phone with an adjustable antenna. 0-9, *,#, and talk.

Rick scratched his head and thought long and hard. He searched high and low in his memory bank and even requested the assistance of Sinclaire who was just as stumped staring at the numbers on Granny's phone. He didn't know the phone number to call his Dad. He didn't know the phone number to call Lori. He only knew 911. He couldn't even ask Siri for any help based on the type of phone Granny had handed to him. He wondered if the phone really worked.

"I can't even google with this Granny?"

"I don't need no Google if that is what you looking for. My googling is right here." Granny patted her bible that she had placed on the kitchen table where they both sat while the children cleaned their rooms to Granny's level of clean.

"I only know 911." This was a realization that hit Rick hard.

"You keep my name out your mouth when you call. I didn't have nothing to do with kidnapping you. I had nothing to do with the cheap labor either. If you going to tell it, you going to need to tell it straight, you going to need to tell it right. If you going to pick anyone out of the Crazy ass Black woman's line up you can't go wrong with pointing to the one in the flower dress and please point to coveralls for just showing up this morning and causing a ruckus. If you can lock up those two then maybe we could have some peace around here. Peace be still. Peace be still, I say." Granny spoke with the small cutting knife as if her words needed the orchestrating to go directly to him to catch her drift.

"Daddy, I'm done with my room." Carlton raced to the kitchen beating, his sister Jasmine Amber Jean for good measure, she was running in to do the same.

Granny glanced at the two and went back to cutting up the collard greens for the evening supper.

"You know where the mailbox is, right?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"I do too, Daddy."

"Good. Go together and put it where it should be. Washer and Dryer should arrive today if not tomorrow. Can't be sure of anything if we aren't getting mail because we aren't allowing things to arrive."

Granny caught WE and how he was very attentive to the children that would present themselves to him. Gladys and Knight were planted on his lap moments later like they have always belonged there resting their heads against his chest pretending to doze off at any second.

"When we are done what do you want us to do next?" Jasmine asked excitedly.

"What do you normally do next?"

Granny spoke for them.

"Whatever Uncle Charlie tells them is what they do."

"Where is Uncle Charlie?" Rick was curious. He noticed that the old man didn't touch breakfast that morning even though he had sat at the table listening to the children moan and groan about kitchen clean up.

"Doing what he does best when Coveralls takes his Girl Child from here. Worry. He worries more about that more than Flowers, but he will never say so. He will make ya believe it is the same worry. It's not. Coveralls is the darkest most miserable demon. Not happy unless everyone remembers or feels that energy."

Rick felt some type of way about the children listening to this but showing no effects on hearing this description of their mother. He wanted to know their thoughts on the situation but knew there would be a better place and time. He also had Sinclaire on ignore. The whispers became easy to tune out if he concentrated on the matter at hand.

"Go on, and we will worry about what's next when you get back from doing that."

"Are you calling someone, Daddy?"

"Not sure how to send Morse code. Now go and take care of that mailbox."

His son and daughter raced out of the kitchen through the adjoining laundry room and out the back door. The sound of the screen door indicated they were off to do a job they were appointed to complete.

"Important things to remember should have been taught to you in school, but you use technology to keep your mind asleep. Important like phone numbers, birthdays, anniversaries, and whatever else a person finds important to know but these are the signs of times like this good book speaks of. Mesmerized by the devil frequency. You have to fight to tune him out, and the only way to do it is with the mighty word of God. This good book has all the answers, I say."

"Could you open up your Bible Granny and locate two phone numbers for me, I'm going to need My Daddy's and the one for 'You Need A Rental."

Rick had to juggle children who waited with bated breath for direction on what to do next after completing one Chore after the next. The most challenging task was trying to figure out where their Mama would hide his phone. It kept them all busy for a long time.

Marty knew where the keys were and Rick was relieved even though he was prepared to pay the rental company for a lost key with his credit card.

For a moment Rick sat in the front seat of the car enjoying the blasting AC. He was able to breathe and remember that he was creating a list of his own. A list of things that he needed to have done to make living more comfortable, like WD40 for the creaking sounds, a window unit to have AC until central could be installed, a plumber and ...

Someone was touching his thigh with a light repeated tap, the contact had taken him out of his thoughts.

"I'm going with you."

Rick eyed the little boy in the passenger seat. The very hand that tapped at Ricks' thigh was now repeatedly patting his own knees as he rocked back and forth towards the cold air that was coming out of places that had him in awe.

"Yeah?"

Marty nodded with a smile. He closed his eyes pressed his nose in the vent where the air was dispersed.

"Feels good?"

Marty nodded eagerly with his smile just as bright. Rick opened the vent more for Marty's enjoyment after hearing the slight squeal. Marty was amused by the amount of air blasting in his face. He was unaware that his Daddy was playing with him that way. Low and High. It was all magic to Marty. Gladys and Knight were outside the driver side door wanting to come inside. Rick opened the door and picked them up to sit on his lap. They got to experience cool air inside of the car with the same wonderment as Marty. The laughter and squeals the children made had Rick smiling too.

Within a very short time, the Rental car company truck showed up with a driver to take the BMW away. It was a young black kid with headphones was all that Rick recalled with clarity. He remembered Granny calling the kids to come to get some food on their stomachs to tie them over until suppertime.

The head count was off. Three children were missing. Granny froze for a second to make sure she was right about the number and the empty seats.

"Don't Y'all move from that table. Now, I've got five of you at the table. Who am I missing?"

Carlton spoke because it was his job to know and to be aware.

"Jasmine was telling Marty to get out of the car and Daddy is talking to Abigail on the other side of the house where Uncle Charlie keeps things."

Granny could see the fancy black car leaving the property and Jasmine screaming trying to run after it.

"Daddy! DADDY! MARTY! MARTY!" Jasmine shouted in the air, and it was instantly heard by Sinclaire while Rick was hugging his daughter Abigail after the short talk they had on the side of the house.

Sinclaire informed Rick that he had left fucking Marty in the car.

 _Why wouldn't Marty get out of the car?_

The sound was enough to rouse Uncle Charlie from out of his room to stand with Granny at the screened front door.

"What's happening, Granny?"

Granny counted two additional children for sure. She had the sixth one shouting and running as fast as her feet could carry her, Jasmine Amber Jean. The seventh one standing on the bottom porch step spectating, Abigail. And the eighth one was possibly being hauled off on accident more than on purpose, but it made no difference because it was Marty. It could be either or, when it came to that child that had no grasp nor understanding about vigilance, personal space or fear of the unknown.

"To heavens if I really know. Look at that Daddy run with that doll in his hands."

"Smart that he ain't following the path, cutting through like that." Uncle Charlie watched the fast running Daddy try to shorten the distance between him and the vehicle that was leaving with his very own boy child.

"He ain't as dumb as I want to think he is, Uncle Charlie."

"Nah he ain't. I reckon his brains belong to the Craigslist."

"Running like that, I say that is speed from the blue-eyed demon if I were to take a guess. One thing for sure he is getting broken-in good with that Marty. Got to keep an extra eye on a snatchable child, I say. His mama was the same way."

"Marty looks at the world like most children should."

"Not in this world they shouldn't." Granny asserted.

Uncle Charlie pushed open the screen door to get a good view of things. He was too old to help, and he didn't have his shotgun handy where he could at least blow out one of the tires. He knew it had to be true that Marty was in that car if Jasmine Amber Jean said it was so. That was a girl child word he could trust.

* * *

"What are you doing still up, Uncle Charlie? You said you put your Girl child in the spare room. You need to get some rest now. I put the shotgun away. It's a good sign that she came back quick like, right?" Granny spoke to the silhouette of the man that sat at the table alone in the dark. She didn't turn on the light to see him clearly when she could hear what needed to be said.

"Got to see who comes out of there, Granny. I can't make sense of it. This is different. She never came back with no clothes on before, and when I had got her from the Hollar, I covered her. I covered her then and brought her back here. I got her covered up now and put her in there to know which direction she may take."

There was a spare room adjoined to the laundry room which was also the way to the back porch. The room only had a cot and not much else. To leave that spare-room one would have to walk past him where he sat in the kitchen or go outside to not. He made no complaint about sitting up way past his bedtime.

"Well, you nearly scared me half to death sitting in the dark like you are. I was going to check up on her to make sure she wasn't hurt none."

"She's not hurt none from what I can tell. Wet, naked and confused but not hurt." Uncle Charlie knew exactly what would have indicated such a thing, what he had seen years ago could not be unseen, he was scarred by what he remembered, it felt fresh, and it still pained him to think on it.

"I just don't know what to say about it all. She comes back and weeks haven't gone by, not even a few days, just hours. Do you have thoughts on it, Uncle Charlie?"

"She's pregnant, Granny." Uncle Charlie's voice cracked. It was the first time Granny ever heard a strong voice like his become weakened by the words he spoke to her.

Granny felt like she was kicked in the gut. She covered her mouth to prevent the sound she wanted to make, but it didn't stop the tears from falling once she opened her eyes to blink.

Seconds later _SHE_ emerged from the backroom into the kitchen, draped and covered by a white sheet. _She_ took no notice of Granny nor Uncle Charlie in the kitchen, making her way to the other side of the house to her bedroom without incident.

Only a few hours of rest did Granny get that early morning. It was day and Uncle Charlie's Girl Child was released from the Demon's firm hold. They were on their sixth day with Daddy in the house, and she couldn't bring herself to say it was a bad thing. If she is indeed pregnant like, Uncle Charlie says she is, the Daddy was needed more than ever before. More than ever. Granny went in search of the children after freshening up.

 _"They say there is something special about flowers. I don't think most people know or take the time to realize everything that it represents sprouting up from the earth with no human eye just the sun that shines and the sky that cries."_

 _"What kind is it, Uncle Charlie?" Michonne's thirteen year old self asked the man that she came to live with that summer. He was introduced to her as her Daddy but he told her it was okay if she was more comfortable calling him Uncle Charlie based on the circumstances that she and Granny ended up on his porch steps looking for a place to stay._

 _"That there be a Daisy. You are looking at Daisies, My Girl Child and it is very happy to meet your acquaintance."_

 _The vibrant colors took her breath away. White, yellow and the green stems, visited by a hovering Monarch Butterfly._

 _"Will this be my spot to grow something?"_

 _"I want you to enjoy flowers. If you can do that then you will be okay. If you can't you let me know who plucked the petals and I will take care of it. Your garden is safe here. Do you understand me?"_

This was a memory shared by Michonne's thirteen-year-old self in her grown up dreaming state, an effect that made it hard for the woman she had become to retain or to know if this was just a dream or not. It felt real. Dream or memory it felt real.

There was a dot to connect. A dot she didn't realize was there with a similar theme to a mystery pertaining her fear of men and the final event that caused her to remember how she felt about Daisies.

Suzanne tried to convince her to go hunting for Daisies that morning. It was the morning that Michonne was to meet Daryl down by the Red Neck Hollar to see who can make the rocks skip across the water of the River...

Granny didn't think to knock. Her heart had her mind entangled in the grips of Satan's thoughts of what could have happened to the children. She had to tell Michonne to get up and help her search because they were all missing. Every single one. No head count could be performed with no child and Uncle Charlie was sleeping later than usual, and he was definitely the last mind to wake and worry.

"Jesus in the Great Heaven above please have a light switch, what in the hell Y'all doing up in here? Scaring my heart so? I was saying to myself who in the hell is snatching up all eight of yous? Y'all all up in here. If your Daddy didn't tell me not to take a switch to you I would go get the switch myself, I says!"

For Granny to see them all sprawled out, limbs, heads, arms, pajama-clad, nightgown wearing, feet, sandwiched in between two people that should be outlawed to have children, Granny shook her head in disapproval, one hand on her hip and the other holding the bedroom doorknob.

Rick was already on the very edge of the bed, coming out of his deep slumber to have his mind take in everything all at once was disconcerting. Tiny fingers on his earlobe, a foot pressed against his groin area, the chest of someone on the top of his head, something that was warm, wet, spreading. All of this was overwhelming as was the sound of Granny's boisterous voice. He fell out of the bed and hit his head on the nightstand on the way to the floor.

Their children were quick to rouse from the old woman's disapproving voice that could cut through the heaviest of sleep and stir a conscience if one were to be found intact.

"A bed for grown-ups is not meant for children. Bad habits you creating if you don't get a handle on it now. Carlton, Abigail, Billi Jo, Jasmine, Andre, Marty, Gladys and Knight, get on up from there. Get up. Get on up right now yall hear!"

* * *

A/N: This is not Linear. My head will be on my laptop for the next hour or two. Sigh. Please take this in bits as I try to figure this out, if I can at all, on how to make this clear to the reader without having to take chapters down or reconfigure. This is how the story is coming out of my fingertips weaving and layering events with more details that will attach to something else as the story proceeds. There will be details to recovering Marty from the BMW and what happens at the dealership. There will also be more light shone on what Michonne shares with Rick once the kids are escorted out of their bedroom before we take a trip to Rick's parents. Thank you all for reading.


	41. Chapter 41

"The belief that unhappiness is selfless and happiness is selfish is misguided. It's more selfless to act happy. It takes energy, generosity, and discipline to be unfailingly lighthearted, yet everyone takes the happy person for granted. No one is careful of his feelings or tries to keep his spirits high. He seems self-sufficient; he becomes a cushion for others. And because happiness seems unforced, that person usually gets no credit."

 **― Gretchen Rubin, The Happiness Project: Or Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun**

* * *

This was the day that Rick wished he had wings or was it the teenager or was it the poet that gave him these thoughts? He ran as fast as he could, cutting along the tree lined property barely missing a log, but sliced by a thorny branch that crisscrossed on his already battered face that was still healing from the fight he was in just three days ago. Or was it four days ago? His feet hit the gravel road, but the car was 400 yards away if not more. He kept running.

Marty watched the commotion happening on the outside of the vehicle by standing looking out the back window from the backseat. He was no longer enthralled by the cold air coming out of the vents in the back. Only one thing caused him to get up off the floor. The car was moving. He waved bye-bye to a screaming Jasmine Amber Jean when he stood up from the floor behind the passenger seat. He wore his usual big bright smile. Marty was now standing directly behind the driver seat. He was happy he was going somewhere with his Daddy. But it wasn't his Daddy.

What he could see was his Daddy was chasing after him just like Jasmine Amber Jean. He was giddy and tickled that they weren't going to catch him based on his very young vantage point when his Daddy finally made it to the road. Marty drummed his hand and bounced with delight until he realized his Daddy was getting too tired to catch him. So he tapped the young guy's shoulder that was driving.

The young, lanky guy's name was Noah, and he was a fulltime college student and a part-time worker for 'You Need A Rental.'

Noah had his headset on because he really needed to pass his college course on Astronomy. It was imperative for him to graduate this time around and he had all the answers to the final exam verbally recorded. He was immersing himself on repeat about everything dull regarding space, galaxies, stars and the math behind it. The repeated tap on his shoulder almost freaked him out. The small boy rubbing his arm to get his attention or to calm him from spazzing out was unnerving.

"Wait." Noah took the headset out of his ear and began slowing the car down. "Where did you come from, little dude?"

"From there." Marty pointed to the opposite direction.

Noah glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a man fall to his knees in the middle of the red dirt road with a cloud of gravel and dirt dusting the air that the four wheels from the BMW disturbed.

Noah came to a complete stop.

"My daddy's tired. He can't catch us."

Rick was exhausted. If he weren't so tired, he would have had the energy to slow to a jog but his legs gave out, and his body was ready to convulse in one big heaping sob over the thought of the increasing distance between him and the vehicle that carried his child. All he could do was fall to his knees holding on to the broken Barbie Doll.

Sinclaire's final scream, "You've got my son, Please, STOP!"

The car stopped for a second and then it began to move in reverse before coming to a halt. The driver's door opened and an impatient Marty slid out running to him. He was fast just like his Daddy.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't know he was inside. I really didn't see him."

Sinclaire hugged his boy to him and pressed kisses to his face that caused Marty to giggle.

Granny was relieved along with Uncle Charlie that boy child had sense enough not to be carried off too far even if it was just a short ways down the road.

The sight of the Daddy kissing on his boy child had Granny clutching at her bible even tighter. Uncle Charlie ran his thumbs up and down the top part of his suspenders that held his pants up. He didn't put on his overalls. There would be no yard work performed due to his mind wasn't right about what happened earlier that morning.

"Well, I be. Back in our Day, I don't think that would have happened. Things you see on TV and how white people treat their kids like they hold value above themselves has always been a wonder, Granny."

"Yes Indeed. I would of had a switch ready and waiting for him. Never thought to do nothing like that." Granny admitted.

Uncle Charlie nodded his head at the sight as he spoke with a bit of new found admiration. "He hugging and kissing on that boy child like he wasn't just gone for two minutes tops but like he was rose up from the dead."

"Yes Indeed." Granny shook her head observing the very same thing. "Yes, Indeed."

"Indeed." Uncle Charlie added for good measure.

He had patted Abigail's shoulder and it caused the young girl to turn to share her observation with Uncle Charlie and Granny, "I think our Daddy loves us too much to spank us."

"I think he has a lot of love for all of you but that boy child has to be handled in a special way. Your Daddy will come to learn soon enough about your brother." Uncle Charlie responded to Abigail.

Granny couldn't believe what Uncle Charlie was alleging. She gave her two cents like she normally would.

"What makes you think he doesn't know? Anyone can look at Marty and tell he's _real_ special. If he ain't smiling he's acting peculiar about things. Got a Daddy here and it's distracted _that_ child a good amount. Still find him Zip and a Zooming around this place like he on a race track or someplace where you probably would need to run. _**Not here**_ I keep telling that child. Only thing that child understands is hand to ass. If my arthritis wasn't hurting me so I would do it. Do it to them all but now that the Daddy here, not a child can be touched."

"He made a point. We need to accept it. You've been taking a switch to him and he still running around and getting into things. Doesn't work. He may be that little Timmy on the TV shows. Other ways to reach a child to behave."

"We will see. The others behave. More than not. One threat of getting a switch and they shape up."

"Indeed, Granny. My Girl Child has so many kids, I think it's the difference in personalities. We witness what the world is made up of just sitting at the table day to day. They all ain't the same. Some more normal than others. That boy child is just plain happy about most things. Not a sin to smile often. No matter what your good book says about it. I don't think you are going to find a chapter nor verse that says beat a child into submission. If you do then I don't want no parts of that God or that bible study. I will tell you that now."

"Spare the rod, spoil the child."

"Not the same. Not the same."

Uncle Charlie made his way back inside of the house to go into his room to fret over his Girl Child leaving the house dressed like a man, playfully laughing while being pushed down the road inside of a Grocery Cart. He made it up in his mind that if ever he come across Mr. Bob, they would need to have a talk. If he couldn't get Bob to understand he would hope that his pistol wouldn't take much convincing that he meant business. No one has permission to haul his Girl Child and not report to where she was hauled off too.

"Where do you think they are going, Granny?" Abigail watched her Daddy, her younger sister Jasmine Amber Jean, and younger brother Marty climb inside the BMW that continued with them headed down the road.

"I would need to read revelations to have the answers to where that car is taking them off too. Lord in Jesus name, come on inside Abigail and wash up. Wash your hands good before going to the table now. I made a little something to put on your stomach until supper time. Come on now." Granny kept the screen door held open for Abigail to come inside.

* * *

"Hi, I am Negan Malone. I will be more than happy to be your sales guy today." Negan sized up the man. If he hadn't seen with his two own eyes that this man with a doll and two black children got out of a Top of the line BMW he would have stayed parked at his desk and allowed the other salespeople in the inside draw straws on who would have to go out in the heat to waste their time.

Rick sized the man that was taller than him with a cheap suit, but presentable nonetheless. His hair was cut, brunette, facial hair with wisps of gray was well groomed compared to his own. Manicured hands. Old Rolex. Shoes over a hundred dollars. Smelled of cigarettes.

Rick was actually still bleeding from the cuts he received from the branches just 40 minutes before being dropped off by the young driver for 'You Need A Rental.' Rick realized he may have appeared dishevel and not a serious buyer when he asked if he could see any Mercedes if it existed that was the size of a school bus. Preferably not. Van size if possible. Negan led him to the used cars. He had a vehicle that met his description. A Ford. Rick scratched his head in confusion. If he wanted a Ford he would have gone to a Ford Dealership. His eyes kept going back to the showroom while Sinclaire kept turning his neck to look and listen to the features of the vehicle that was more than perfect.

 _15 fucking seats and air condition. What more do we need?_

Rick was glad to have Jasmine Amber Jean with him at the car dealership. He had someone to tell him about hunger, thirst, and how a certain snack would be really good every twenty minutes.

"We have plenty of financing options. Where did you say you were employed?"

"Go Stop."

"Really?" Bullshit, Negan thought to himself.

"Really." Rick countered. He was distracted.

Rick couldn't focus very much because he had to keep his eyes on what Jasmine and Marty were doing at all times. He constantly surveyed the area for anyone that could possibly want to snatch the two super hyper children that were on a sugar overload. Jasmine Amber Jean became very astute at working the machine after the first time their Daddy escorted them over as they watched in awe at the potato chips and candy bar falling for them to grab.

"Marty! Come and sit down with me. You too, Jasmine." Obediently the children came and sat, and slowly after a few minutes they detached themselves to find the vending machine again with the spare change that their Daddy had given them. Rick had to get up several times to bring them back where he could keep an eye on them. The toys that were available after the salesman pointed them out kept them preoccupied for a short period.

The two kids went back to admiring the vehicles together with Marty leaving his sticky finger prints on the body of the cars showcased inside. Rick had the urge to get up and take Marty to wash his hands for the 4th time but he was in the middle of narrowing down his decision whether to go and take the used Turbocharged V6 15 passenger Ford Transit with a few high end options or a brand spanking new Minivan that were being sold across the street that wouldn't haul them safely nor legally. He had never dreamed in a million years he would be in the market for a van of any type. Now it was a necessity. New or Used. He had to have a vehicle.

"Yeah that Ford Transit belong to the church a couple of miles from here. Was only driven to pick up those who didn't have transportation for Sunday Services. Pastor Gabriel is on his way to having a big Mega church soon. I sold 5 to his Holy Trinity Church less than a year ago. Took 2 of his Ford Transits and traded them for our Mercedes that seats 10. Didn't make sense to me but who am I to question. I am not a man of God. But I was certainly blessed that day."

"I want it."

"The Ford Transit? What about this fancy Mercedes you have me customizing for you?"

"I need it."

"You want the Ford but you need the Mercedes?"

"All I Need."

Negan leaned back in his seat wondering if he should call Sheriff Herschel on the man holding a dirty mangled Barbie doll with a missing arm, accompanied by two black children, using a possible stolen identity. He kind of look like the picture in the California driver's license but he couldn't be sure since the guy in the photo was clean shaven and look like a million bucks compared to the man that sat across from him bruised and battered with dried blood from a possible fight. Yes, the man before him was bruised and dusted with red dirt that began to darken from dried perspiration. The only thing similar was his race and the color of his eyes. The watch he wore was a sign that he may have robbed the man the license belonged too as well. It was a Breitling watch. A damn Breitling.

"Go Stop? What is it that you do for them?"

"Manage."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not sure if what you are asking me is important if I am not applying for a loan."

"You don't need a loan?"

"Never asked for one."

"How do you plan to pay?"

"With my card."

"Your card?" Double Bullshit, Negan needed to be made into a believer and right now he secretly called Bullshit.

"I will take that Ford you have now." Sinclaire could sense the salesman's disbelief. He reached in his back pocket again for his wallet.

"What about the custom Mercedes?"

"I still want that. My wife is going to want it and I think we would be most happy with it."

"Why do you need the two? How many people do you plan to haul around?" Negan realized none of his questions were being answered to satisfy his curiosity.

"Well, we have a lot of kids. I need a vehicle now if what you are telling me is accurate that I have to wait almost 3 months." Sinclaire spoke out loud not necessarily to Negan but for Rick to understand why it was a good idea to buy the used vehicle and how they could not just wait for a Brand New one when they needed something right then and there. He knew his wife, Suzanne didn't care about vehicles because she didn't know how to drive without causing an accident. Worrying about color wasn't necessarily important either as long as Rick didn't try to select white. The color white was out of the running no matter how much Rick leaned. He didn't care if Rick didn't want brown. He was glad that they both agreed with a black Mercedes. The Ford was already Mocha.

Negan watched the man's reaction and it seemed off. He wasn't sure if the man was aware that he gave off the impression of possibly talking to himself which most people would probably write off as highly stressed. Stress can cause people to seem overly aggressive, talkative, or just off.

"You say you manage at Go Stop? What department?"

"All of them."

"Is that so?" Negan didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused. He decided to wait until he got his hands on the form of payment.

Sinclaire was officially annoyed and he was ready to go.

"Here's my card. Print any papers you need me to sign for ownership. I want my wife included on the title for both. Michonne Suzanne Benton." Sinclaire slid the black card across the desk. "It is important to _me_ that Suzanne is spelled out."

Not much chilled Negan but in that moment the twinkle was undeniable.

The card, the ID matched up with the name. Negan needed this sale to push him over goal and make him number one sales person for the 5th year in a row. The instructions that the strange man gave him was easy enough to follow. He wasn't about to pry any further especially if he got an approval from a black card that he didn't come into contact with very often but more than anyone else at the dealership. He casually got up wearing that Killer smile. His desk inside the showroom had every sales award imaginable for a reason. He listened to the customer and with possible payment in hand he was ready to swipe especially with a Black card. All he needed to do was gather the paperwork have it signed immediately after approval. No Lender search involved. Sweet Lucille!

"I will be right back."

No sooner than Negan leaving him alone a black guy dressed in a suit was carrying Marty and holding Jasmine Amber Jean's hand. The suit he wore was a slight notch above his sales guy suit, Rick thought. His facial hair was well groomed. His hands freshly manicured. Shoes over 50 dollars. Smelled of moderately priced cologne.

"This is our Daddy." Jasmine made the introduction.

Rick took note of Marty patting the man on the back and rubbing his shoulders and Jasmine Amber Jean leading someone to a possible death by strangulation. Rick quickly stood up from the chair.

"This man's your Daddy, Ghost?"

"You didn't correct him, Jasmine?" Rick was trying to get an idea if Jasmine understood the importance of people calling her by her name and not using a name that was descriptive of her lack of melanin.

"I did, Daddy."

"I'm sorry, Jasmine Amber Jean. Do I have it right?" Tyrese glanced down to the little girl with skin almost as white as snow compared to his dark skin. His smile broaden.

He appeared friendly enough, Rick thought for a moment.

Jasmine nodded unsure about what was happening but she could sense something by keeping her eye on her Daddy.

"So you are the Daddy?" Tyrese questioned. He was curious.

"I am. Now let go of her hand and put my son down."

Jasmine Amber Jean felt the release and her hand fell to her side. She continued to watch and listen to the interaction between the two men. She only moved slowly towards her Daddy because she was waiting for Marty. She was going to need to take Marty's hand no matter how much he resisted and make him behave with scary threats this time.

"My name is Tyrese Brown. I am a salesman here at Mercedes World."

"My name is Richard Sinclaire Grimes."

"My little man was running around here," Marty was wiggling to get down and it occurred to Tyrese a moment too late.

"He is not your little man. Put him down." Sinclaire spoke concerned why it wasn't done immediately when told to do so the first time by Rick.

"No problem." Tyrese set Marty down to stand.

"Come over here, Marty and sit down." Rick instructed pointing his finger downward to the nearest chair that was next to his. Sinclaire wouldn't allow Rick to break eye contact. Not this time since having to repeat himself.

"Okay, Daddy." Marty said happily.

"Don't get back up and the same goes for you, Jasmine Amber Jean." The two kids heard the tone and knew then to stay planted. Daddy meant business. Jasmine had a finger to her lips to remind Marty to stay quiet and to stop moving around.

"I didn't mean any harm." Tyrese glanced away from the kids to the man that the children claimed was their father.

"How do you know my children?"

"I have tried to reach Michonne to let her know her kids are here but she isn't picking up. I didn't realize she had the kids father back in town. I didn't realize that SHE was even back in town. I haven't seen her in a minute."

"How do you know, Michonne?"

"From Daryl's Automotive. The grocery store. Whenever she is short on money for her family, I help out. I asked her to marry me a couple of weeks back. If I'm giving her all this money she might as well be my wife. The kids would have health insurance, Dental and a father figure too."

"Do you know how many kids she has?" Rick's eyes went wide that a man would even endeavor wanting to marry a woman that had so many children and lived in a shoe. Was this man possibly in love with Michonne or trying to have free access to his children in some other way? He felt slightly threatened by the possibility.

"Seeing her in that flower dress no one would ever guess-."

He was abruptly cut off. What Tyrese was going to imply if he had been permitted to finish was that Michonne has a nice body and anyone with eyes knew she didn't birth all those kids with the way she wore a flower dress.

Hearing this simple description of his woman, Sinclaire was amped to 9, and one wrong word from Tyrese, he would go one more notch upward to murderous with witnesses. Sinclaire had no problem getting into a person's personal space and choking someone since he didn't have a gun. He didn't care that this person was built like a football player or a pro wrestler all he knew was if the guy did pick him up and slam him, he better break his back.

"How do you know Suzanne?" Sinclaire's teeth were clenched. He was seething. Ready.

This was the first time that Tyrese had ever seen what he could only describe as blue eyes becoming more like a darkening sky. Tyrese was never one to shy from eye contact but this fool standing before him was more than likely going to try and fight. The bruises that he could see on the man's face were an indication that he was in a recent brawl and if the rumors were true it was the fight that was being pieced together that was told by Eugene that involved his brother Daryl. Denise was the town pharmacy tech and she could spread a rumor faster than a plague.

"Suzanne? I've never met Michonne's dead sister. The only thing that I know about Suzanne is that she left Michonne with 7 kids to raise. Suzanne died in childbirth with the last set of twins."

"The denial and lies are going to drive me crazy from that woman." Sinclaire stepped back. "Been gone too long." He spoke to Rick who could do nothing but agree with nodding.

"I know the kids are glad you are back. I was wondering how I was going to manage all of them. I mean you take your seven, then it's just me, Michonne and her son Andre. I can manage-."

Negan found himself in the middle of a full on showroom brawl that escalated out of control and it was hard to believe something like this would happen at Mercedes World.

* * *

"Are you going to just sit there?"

Rick was still sitting on the floor stunned to the point that he couldn't move without feeling the wet material of his sweatpants including the side of his shirt touching his skin. He thought he would need a pair of scissors to have it cut from him.

Michonne was pulling the sheets off the bed.

"I've been pissed on."

"I can name a few things that could really paralyze you. Now get up and help me with the bed."

"I have to take this off, and I'm not sure how without becoming violently sick in the process."

Michonne sighed. She had stopped what she was doing and walked over to where he was on the floor.

"Stand up." She had commanded.

Rick did as told. It wasn't comfortable with the smell of piss perfuming the air, and any movement didn't help matters. He was going to choke or merely dry heave.

"Lift your arms."

Michonne lifted his shirt from him with speed he didn't know was possible. She pulled his sweats down to include his underwear. He wasn't aroused by this, but under any other circumstances he would have been revved and ready. He kept his eyes trained on her. His mind was on the scent from her still damp hair that wasn't necessarily pleasing to his senses for it caused the memory of her drowning. She smelled like rotting fish, sulfur, and moss. It reminded him of the day he carried her from the river. Brine, Decay.

"Am I losing you?"

"I need help around here and you doing nothing isn't helping."

"Am I losing you?"

"What are you asking me?"

"Am I losing, you?"

Rick tapped her pinky fingernail with his own startling her, causing her to shift. They were standing that close, face to face. Michonne didn't know what to make of the heat from his morning breath that still had a hint of spearmint, and how suddenly hot the room became with them standing there staring at each other.

"Are you losing me? Sometimes I wonder if I am losing me."

"I need to know."

"Why?"

"I want to do this with you. Small pieces are easier if you can."

"I am not sure what you want from me. Everything has been taken. The cupboards bare and yet..."

"You went to the river. Why?"

"To kill three people, me, myself and I." Rick could almost hear three distinct voices. One belonging to Onne, Michonne and a blend of Suzanne and Michonne. Just the sound of possible Suzanne stirred Sinclaire.

"But you know how to swim."

"Reason why I'm here."

"I would like it if you tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"When it gets too much."

She was distracted again when his pinky finger touched hers, luring her into a pinky promise.

"It's always too much."

"Then there must be something in the cupboards Michonne. Not everything's been taken when I want to help with the replenishing."

"How can you help me when you are just as broken, Rick? Things have been taken from you too and I can't understand how you are able to forget."

"Because I focus. I focus on staring straight ahead like I am doing now. I am staring at you. We have a bunch of kids that we will have to take care of and I focus on time. Time moves forward. Not backward. I'm not saying I'm 100% right in my mind. I like to think I am 53%. I want to believe that's functional, safe, and an opportunity to get better."

His words weren't lost on her. Things that made sense weren't easily discarded. His pinky tapped hers ever so slightly. She felt the desire to link with him, but she was unsure of what she was promising him or what he was promising her. She had never considered a degree to her wellness. Mental wellness. She has always thought of herself as unwell never in degrees. He had presented her mind with something new to ponder.

Rick or maybe it was the poet who was now part of him, considered the woman who stood before him as the most beautiful battered Monarch Butterfly. He was going to try and figure out a way for her to disassociate him from all of the predators that consumed her thoughts. He was not them. He was unsure how to lasso her with anything other than a promise to be there for her. He often wondered now how to get her to understand that he needed her to be there for him too.

Michonne eyes were on his beard and the hairs that gave room for his pink lips to peek through, above that was his nose that was shaped different from hers, and his blue eyes above that would typically freeze her up if he were anyone else. His eyes warmed her. She was able to separate his eyes from all the others that haunted her, and would cause her to retreat to a very dark, dark place where the whites of eyes can go unseen. Rick stirred her curiosity like the Daisies in the past. She was moved to touch what she considered flames. Her fear prevented her from taking a step because it would lap at her mind and cause her to dive into the river to ebb it's intensity. That was what drove her to the River. The madness she felt she was being driven to, could only stop if she were to drown like she almost did years ago. How the world became so serene after being submerged for so long. Rick performed CPR. Mouth to Mouth brought her back. He saved her life while, Daryl and Shane watched on in fear and utter relief.

They both lost time and what could be remembered were, the steam, heat, hot, soap, suds, shampoo, brushing of teeth, the sound of the children, Granny's voice with instruction, subsiding of temp, timer reset, wet the skin, bite marks, moans, slapping of ball sack, pounding, impending climax, increase in temp, rinse, suds at feet, white feet, bright nail polish on dark toes, feet planted on the bathroom rug next to the tub. When did they get outside of the tub?

Sinclaire's name was in her throat. He was swimming in her head as Michonne surfaced, breaking free for a moment of Suzanne.

Suzanne's name was grunted forth from his parted lips. She was slipping away the more that Rick surfaced, gasping for air that Sinclaire needed.

Michonne had her back to him while he sat on the rim of the Cast-iron tub both hands gripping the edge for balance and to also prevent himself from touching her. He watched her take all of him inside of her. He would have given almost anything to have her facing him but from behind was good. Real good.

He had a great visual of her ass. Her magnificent ass. Her skin still glistened from the steam of the shower as did his.

"It's me." Rick spoke and swallowed before his breath caught in his throat.

He sat as still as he could waiting for instructions if she was willing to proceed now that they were both cognizant. Her hair was freshly shampooed, damp, the brine from the river washed away at some point and he wished for her to lean into him.

"I know."

"How?"

Michonne didn't answer. She was trying to stave off her quickly mounting orgasm that had her mind and body trembling.

"Hold my waist." She struggled to command and focus at the same time.

Rick couldn't hold her waist nor control her hips from whipping back and forth with both hands. He took his whole arm and wrapped her safely around her abdomen in order for her to not slip forward while his other hand braced nearest the wall of the tub to prevent falling inside. She rode him. The only sounds that were made echoed and bounced as their breathing turned to heavy panting, whining and grunting. He was relieved that she began to just go up to the tip and down. Up and plunge. Up and plunge. Swiftly she performed each motion with a slight jerk forward or back, in quick succession. Rick knew that a couple of more, he was going to Peak all around her crest and exploded he did, with her, together in a strangled moan.

Michonne was tingling again. She was breathless but the tingling was especially strong. It felt delicious for a few moments where she tried to stifle a giggle, her body still trembling from what the waves produced. Her mind tried to bring the dark clouds, enough strength she found to stall them. This was hers. She was strong enough to fight the familiar label whenever she walked into a room with men or near a group of them. Only the voices of the women she heard when her Granny had a small party or took her to a place that no child should ever go, echoed in her subconscious but it didn't resonate as much.

"Look at her fast ass..."

"Get your fast ass over here, Girl."

"Do you see her smiling at that grown ass man? Mmph, Mabeline is going to have her hands full with that fast one."

So much responsibility placed on a child and not on the possible hungry wolves waiting to gobble little girls up that couldn't decipher bad attention when candy was attached to tickles, new dolls, and ice cream cones. The value of money would come later.

"Did I do okay?" Rick caught his breath. He was still inside of her. The tub was becoming less comfortable but he wasn't about to complain. Not with his arm still wrapped around her waist. He thought for a moment how he would love if she leaned back on to his chest. He would like that and when she did, he thought he would instantly swell again but instead it was his heart when she nodded.

"Yes." She giggled. Her face was close to the hairs of his beard. The back of her head rested on his shoulder. She turned her face away to face where the commode was as if she was ashamed or shy about it all.

He couldn't help but chuckle a little down inside. He was afraid to do it where she would know. He didn't want a misunderstanding that he was laughing at her or laughing at what they had just done.

"Do I get a grade?"

"You want a grade?" Michonne questioned turning her face to have the hairs of his beard touch the side of her skin again.

"Yeah. I want to know how to improve." He spoke softly to her, relishing in the physical contact of skin to skin with his one arm still holding her close.

"Do you think you didn't do well?"

"I need you to tell me."

"Well, you did extra credit."

"I did?"

"Yeah."

"I told you that I was present. I made sure we didn't fall and kill ourselves."

"That's not extra credit."

"What then?"

"I told you to hold my waist and instead you wrapped your arm around me. Extra credit is going over and beyond what was requested. So, my star pupil you have earned extra credit. Letting me know you are with me and preventing an accidental death is expected." She could tell he was smiling without seeing his face. It was felt in the sudden firmness of his hold and the heaving of his chest against her back.

"Good Morning."

Michonne touched the heads of each child to keep her on count and to also have physical contact with them if she somehow became lost throughout and had not done so. It was something she craved from a mother that she never had nor remembered.

"Morning."

Rick came right from behind Michonne. He was only a step behind her when he entered finding the only seat after Michonne took the first vacant one on the other side of the table. He was going to sit closest to Uncle Charlie when Carlton folded the comics and slid into the seat that he thought he was going to take. He was at the end of the table with Carlton on his left and Uncle Charlie at the head.

"About time y'all come out of that bathroom. Lord have mercy on all the hungry people in the world especially all of them sitting at THIS table waiting. I imagine the people with less or none at all is having a more difficult time but to have food just sitting before us is torture for the babies who are ready and been ready for awhile now."

Just the sound of Granny's voice caused Michonne to bristle. She had sex. Consensual sex with the man behind her and it felt good. It felt good and right. More good than right but she hadn't thought it through and she refused to allow Granny's tone to take it and taint it. She had only complete memories of sex with one man and it was with him. It may have been recent sex that she was recalling but she hadn't given thought to that either. Whatever happened before that was Suzanne-mostly. She remembered him falling to the ground taking the bedsheet with him. Odd. How did this become her memory?

Uncle Charlie nodded to his boy child Carlton, it was okay to end the comic reading now that the two people they have been waiting on had finally arrived. The old man relished in having a quick rub to his shoulder that included a lightning quick peck on his cheek from his Girl Child. She was back and that was about all that mattered to him.

Granny watched Michonne take her place in between Abigail and Billie Jo. Granny noticed what ailed the hand that was covered when she came to the table just the morning before with it wrapped in a bandage while dressed like coveralls. The demon was trying to hide the wedding ring. That ring meant Flower child could rest her damn soul from tearing up the house and creeping out in the night in search of that diamond. Flower child would have had that ring back long ago if she was smart enough to ask _herself_ where the hell she tossed it. Two selves in one self. Coveralls didn't count to Granny. Coveralls was an official demon of the worse kind. Granny strummed the bible with her fingers hoping God would hear her silent prayer for Peace to be still for minimum time today, that day, to get through breakfast. Too much excitement and grief around them could last them all a lifetime.

Rick rubbed Carlton head after his oldest child beamed because he was sitting next to him, resting briefly his forehead on Rick's forearm.

"Granny, made grits."

"Grits?"

"I sure did."

"Who eats grits?" Rick questioned curious. His eyes were on Michonne hoping she had the answers because he wasn't the one to put it in the grocery cart. He didn't like oatmeal and he was quite sure he never acquired the taste for grits.

"I like grits." Michonne responded back to him, curious to why he was looking to her for answers to his preferences.

"Me too." Jasmine Amber Jean, Andre and Knight chimed.

Marty placed his palm to his forehead shaking his head. He had no idea what grits were and if he had a choice he wouldn't eat anything at all. Well maybe potato chips and soda. Oh, and Starburst and snickers. Spaghetti with no balls or brown specks. Everything else he could almost do without if Granny didn't make sure he had 4 bites based on his age before he could leave the table to run as fast as he could through the house while she was busy fussing about peace through chaos wasn't a marathon it's a battle and a switch would help her win.

Rick noticed that Abigail and Billie Joe shook their heads. Gladys was shaking her head at Knight for saying he liked Grits, if it was Knight, since those two had the same ponytail. It could have been Knight shaking his head at Gladys. Rick made note to do something about it. He needed to tell the difference and the two acted very much the same from his interaction with them. Rick glanced at Carlton who had just shrugged. Carlton was just happy to have a choice now that his Daddy was home. Rick caressed Carlton's head again.

"We will not take blessings for granted. There's people in Africa that are real hungry." Granny spoke to those who were denying the good taste of grits.

Rick couldn't help himself. It reminded him of the conversation of Ham or Turkey on the airplane, "The continent of Africa is enormous, could we narrow down just where are they craving grits?"

Michonne shot a look at him and he shrugged. He genuinely wanted to know. He didn't get a response and he had everyone's attention. All eyes were on him. Eyes. He spoke to his empty plate and the food that still had heat coming from it as Granny uncovered everything.

"Depending on where in Africa it is consider Pap. Porridge. It isn't served layered in butter."

"How do you know?" Granny questioned.

"I've been there. I lived in a South African province, KwaZulu-Natal, Mtubatuba nearest to St. Lucia to be exact. It wasn't the only place. We travelled throughout the coast in order for my mother to finish her thesis on Disparity. She felt we needed to live there."

Rick didn't know as a child it was really for him to not have information about what was happening to his Uncle or that it was Senior wish for him to not be around until he could get all the legal affairs in order that put his brother, Rick's uncle in prison.

"Thesis? Disparity?" Uncle Charlie had no idea what a thesis nor did he fully understand the word disparity in context to a thesis. It was strange to say words that he never spoke in his life. He would like to have it written down for the children to know the meaning and to cursive write it.

"Higher learning than high school diploma, Uncle Charlie." Michonne answered the question that was directed at Rick.

"Is that so?"

"It is." Michonne confirmed and Uncle Charlie accepted the new information.

"How many black people know about this?" Uncle Charlie glanced from Michonne, to Rick and then Granny.

"What do you mean?" Rick was confused.

"Don't know Uncle Charlie. Maybe how they are able to take, take and take. All the world knowledge they create going all over the world like they own it. Taking us from our homelands so many years ago. I have no idea why a white woman would need a thesis in Africa unless it's valuable like diamonds they take from there. The Devil leads us by the hand no matter the race. It began with Cain and Abel."

"You don't say?" Uncle Charlie found the information fascinating. It was a new set of thinking guidelines that stretched further out than ever before.

Michonne shook her head and closed her eyes. She had made her own silent prayer that God would stop delivering knowledge to the two people that were too old to process anything or make sense of it. The value of education, higher education was priceless and would never be the take away or summary for Granny nor Uncle Charlie. Everything was an elaborate conspiracy designed by the devil.

Rick was stomped. Thesis and Diamonds? Africa still considered like a southern town hungry for grits, ham, and turkey sandwiches... What was Africa to these people that sat before him? Who is Cain and Abel? And why is the bible attached to everything?

"Could we say prayer over this breakfast that you claim we are starving the kids from, Granny?" Michonne was curt. She didn't care.

"Go ahead, Uncle Charlie, your Girl Child has spoken."


	42. Chapter 42

"It is the mystery of the unknown

That fascinates us; we are children still

Wayward and wistful; with one hand we cling

To the familiar things we call our own,

And with the other, resolute of will,

Grope in the dark for what the day will bring"

 **― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Complete Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow**

* * *

For him, Michonne made it hard to love than easy to leave. Sinclaire made it known that what he had for Suzanne, the roots ran deep.

Michonne's eyes were on his beard and the hairs that gave room for his pink lips to peek through, above that was his nose that was shaped different from hers, and his blue eyes above that would typically freeze her up if he were anyone else. His eyes warmed her. She was beginning to separate his eyes from all the others that haunted her. Those other eyes would cause her to retreat to a very dark place where the colorless pupils could go unseen. Somehow Rick stirred her curiosity like the Daisies from the past. She was moved to touch what she considered flames but her fear prevented her from taking a step forward, causing her to always look to see what lurked behind. Fear had its firm grip, ready to lap at her mind to cause an uncontrollable urge to dive into the river in order to ebb it's intensity. She had lost time…

"What happened, Sinclaire?" She cupped his face, spying new bruises and cuts.

"I had a day yesterday. Almost lost our son."

"Which one?"

"Marty."

"How?"

"Marty was still in the Rental that I had called to have taken away from here. He didn't get out of the car. I don't think I can just give _him_ free rein over our children. I'm not comfortable. _I_ need to be aware that _he_ is paying attention and to remind him that _WE_ have eight kids that need to be accounted for-at all times. Possibly, an additional Pip-or two." Sinclaire tried to fight the sly smile that danced around the corners of his lips, lighting his eyes up with a hint of merriment.

"Hush now, Sinclaire. You promised to keep quiet about it." Suzanne scolded.

"It's the good sex we have, Suzanne. Deep down I know we've created at least a Pip to our Gladys and Knight."

"It was good to you, huh?" Suzanne caressed the fresh bruise on his face while her other hand rested on his bare chest.

"I like to think of you as mine, Suzanne. I don't care that people will talk and frown on us adding more to our family."

"Well we already have too many kids, and if you almost lost Marty, I would say it's a clear sign we should be careful. If by chance it is false, and I am not expecting we need to take precautions."

"I am the one that put it to his attention. I'm the one that had his ass cut across the yard. He ran into the damn thorns which is how I got this on my face trying to chase the damn car down."

" _You_ really did have a day! Are you sure that is all that happened? You look more like you used your fist and your face at the same time-at some point yesterday. I see new bruises, Sinclaire."

Sinclaire reached for her hand to remove it from his cheek. He brought her hand down but continued to allow her to link all of her fingers with his.

"Where's Michonne?"

"Staring into Rick's face. She doesn't see him fully. Not how I see you. Where's Rick?"

"Cringing. HE wants to get in the shower to get the kid piss off of him."

"Tell me what happened. Did you kill somebody?"

"I would have. Still might based on what you tell me."

"Tell you what, Baby?"

"Have you messed around on me, Suzanne?"

"What?"

"Tell me. Tell me now."

"I'm a married woman. You are my husband. I've only been with one man, YOU."

"How does he know you?"

"He who?"

"Tyrese."

"Tyrese? I know of him. How do you even know about him?"

"I know of him. I didn't like the fact that my kids know him well enough to bring him my way. He was holding Marty and I didn't like it. Had to take over. Had no time to figure it all out like _he_ wanted me too. Some things have to be beat out of a man."

"Where did all of this happen?"

"Dealership."

"Dealership? What were you doing at Mercedes World?"

"We need a vehicle, why else would _he_ go to Mercedes World?"

"It's a really good place, Sinclaire, to get yourself arrested."

"Don't get me off track woman. I've loved you long enough to know your tactics."

"I didn't point him out, Sinclaire."

"No, you didn't. Now tell me how do you know him?"

"I know enough of him. He isn't a bad guy, Sinclaire."

"You know just enough for him to think you would marry him?"

"I'm already married, Sinclaire. I'm married to you. I can't marry no one else. I can't. I told Michonne that. I told Onne. Now, Onne is the one that doesn't care if the bank takes the house and the land it's on. He's been waiting to have all the kids taken from us. I was desperate for a solution. I kept coming back to the same spot in my mind and in my heart. I just would never hurt you in that way."

Suzanne knew if she were ever to take up with any other man it would kill Sinclaire if he found out about it. How it would affect Michonne was another story.

"What are you telling me, woman?"

"I'm telling you to never doubt me. Never question my love for you." Suzanne reinforced what was undoubtedly true.

Sinclaire felt the truth in every single word she spoke to him without having to search her eyes for any hidden meaning. He glanced at her lips and locked eyes with her.

"I love you so much. Do you understand me?" His voice successfully relayed to Suzanne who already knew his love was a desperate all-consuming, deadly kind, when it came to her and his family. He could only be reasoned by her.

"I love you just the same, Sinclaire." Suzanne smiled sweetly. It was the smile that could bring him to his knees and marry her a hundred times.

"I want to understand what was happening for him to see you in your dress. I want to understand it."

"I don't know Sinclaire. I was in town a few times. I was trying to find help in searching for you by going to the library. I was always looking for you or my wedding ring. Sometimes I felt I was very close, _or_ I may even had the information, then months had gone by. One time it was a full year. I kept losing large amounts of time."

"Did it start when you had Gladys and Knight?"

"I would think so. Michonne was stronger than me for a long time, and then Onne would take over to plot and scheme. Onne didn't care about nothing. Onne hoped that someone would come and take our babies. Says Granny is unfit and Uncle Charlie is 100 years old. Onne was the one at Rick's front door in California, you know. He was hoping bringing you back, _you_ would take your kids away from here. Hiding my ring from my sight with that bandage didn't work at all, you know..."

Sinclaire wasn't sure if what she was saying just then, was to him. He shifted his weight and tried to remain neutral.

It was actually directed to Onne who was lurking, listening since _his_ name was mentioned more than usual and he wasn't being referred to as Coveralls.

Suzanne continued, "...Michonne's concern was and will always be Andre."

The mere mention of Andre as Michonne's only concern caused Sinclaire to squeeze his eyes shut to stop his imagination from taking over on what he wanted to say to that particular Alter. He didn't want to get _his_ Suzanne off track which was easy to do. He opened his eyes and remained quiet.

"There was no way I was going to let anyone take away my babies Sinclaire. Just no way. There was urgency, you know? I did wear the dress since Tyrese was willing to help but I didn't do anything more."

"Do you know what you can do to a man when you wear your flower dresses, woman?"

"Onne said the same thing." Suzanne beamed.

"Onne?"

"Yeah. Tyrese wanted to take care of Michonne. Michonne doesn't dress up. Onne knew that he wasn't attracting no one in Coveralls and he wasn't looking for no man of any kind. Onne would take his money, but nothing else. _Money_ _only_ was the deal. I had to get to the point of the meeting is what I remember. I just couldn't do it. Onne had to take over because Michonne didn't want any parts of it. Onne wasn't going to get dressed like a girl, but he would know what to do if already dressed since he knew Man's weaknesses with him being a man too."

"What?" Sinclaire's head was spinning from the tale his Suzanne had just concocted.

"Onne's not gay."

"The least of my concern is Onne's sexuality. My concern is-or what I want to know is..." Sinclaire was stumped. He didn't know how to dismantle the tale she was telling him. He went with the next best thing or question. Why?

"Why?"

"It was because of the bank, Sinclaire. Uncle Charlie does not own this house. I mean he did at one point, but he took a loan to help Michonne years ago. He needed money to pay for that special doctor, Dr. Deanna. Uncle Charlie didn't want any prayer group. He didn't want magic. He wanted someone that had book learning. He said if anyone knew how to fix or help crazy it would be white people with book learning since they were the first crazies to go to Africa and snatch up Africans."

"You know to never repeat what you just said?"

"I know it's ignorant, Sinclaire. I'm talking to you. I'm not talking to a stranger."

"If you ever repeat it to Rick he may re-think staying."

"Why would I repeat anything to him? I only come out if you are out, unless you tell me otherwise. Like at the hotel. I did that for you, you know?"

"Well, he likes sex with Michonne. Likes it way more than I thought he would. Practically all that he thinks about when he isn't wondering how in the hell you and I thought it was a good idea to help with overpopulating the earth. He doesn't have patience for much crazy talk. He would leave. Letting you know now how he is about intelligence."

Sinclaire was joking but he didn't let on to Suzanne that he was just having fun with her nor that he didn't fully believe her story.

"Stop it. You said you won't let him ever take you away from me again."

"I meant it. Every word of it."

"Well, Tyrese likes Michonne. Michonne thinks she loves Mike. I love my husband and will only love him. Onne just wants the kids gone and to be left alone to live his truth under the hood of a 1971-Sinclaire!?"

Suzanne was startled by the grip he had on her ass cheek with his free hand. He brought her closer to his nude body, his lower member was rising quick from the words she had just spoken. He liked that she continued to declare her love for him.

"I know exactly what happened. It was you all along, woman. No man in his right mind can resist you and you know it. He may have known you as Michonne but he was being enchanted by my wife. It got too much for you. You couldn't just bat your eyes and get him to slow down or stay at a distance. Onne knew what to do because things were going too far. You found yourself in over your head."

"I didn't bring my knife, baby." If she had she would have cut him, cut him pretty good.

"Onne is the one that fights like a man." Sinclaire knew Onne pretty well in that area from the past encounters when the Alter had had enough and accused his alter of overstaying his welcome with Michonne.

"I'm sorry, baby. I was desperate for money. It's hard when you have honest hands."

"I'm home. What I have is yours. I will make sure of it when I go into town. I will have your name added to all my accounts just in case something happens, you will always have access. Always. I'm sorry it didn't come to mind the last time."

"I'd rather have you than money."

"I'd rather have you with all my money, woman. I promise you on my life, I pledge it all to you. No other man will ever need to provide for you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, baby."

Sinclaire began to ease his grip on her buttocks. He began to knead the mound like it was dough.

"Tell me what you want, Suzanne. Tell me what you like." What ever she spoke he was going to make happen whether killing men who had harmed her in the past or giving her the best sex if it came to her mind as something she desired from him.

"My husband. I want my husband to kiss me. You know that is what I like, baby. I like when..."

He kissed her train of thought away.

She kissed him back, and the very same thing happened to him.

Soon it was just them holding onto strings of time that had moments of clarity of what they shared, willing to share, comparative to the loop that tried to swallow them, prevent them from being, existing. Yes, strings were splitting, unraveling and binding at the same time. And soon those untethered strings began to attach in very inconspicuous ways along the temporal lobe, winding around and knotting in places that traced the broad canvas of their heart's, where the ends dangled somewhere in each of their separate souls.

Only Sinclaire and Suzanne knew the details brought on by the steam, soap suds, and shampoo, while the other two was cognizant of only brushing their teeth together in the mirror. They knew exactly what the children were doing on the other side of the bathroom door and the response from Granny's booming voice to keep a head count at all times. It was the constant awareness of the timer, subsiding of the temperature eluding them. Sinclaire loved the bite marks, and suffering through the muffled moans that competed with is slapping ball sack. Suzanne enjoyed the delicious pounding, that would bring them to a shared climax inside the tub if they hadn't got lost by the increase in temp, rinsing of suds fading away from their feet. White feet contrasting against the bright nail polish on dark toes. The realization only came to Rick and Michonne when their feet were planted on the faded bathroom rug. Only Sinclaire and Suzanne knew how _they_ got outside of the tub.

* * *

Senior Grimes was having a hard time.

The discarded shoebox was buried under other boxes. It held the photos that he was ready to inspect. His search caused him to realize that burying things no matter how deep doesn't erase their existence and even if it could, it still didn't change the fact that at some point, they were real. Every emotion had him stricken in such a profound way that he began to slowly fall to his knees and he wept. Every falling teardrop that the old man shed represented his failed attempt at mind over matter. It wasn't on his mind so it didn't matter. All at once things began to connect, highlighting his role in the grand scheme of things. He had no other option but to accept the importance in opening the lid and accepting what was being revealed to him. It mattered. They mattered. Every memory of missed or ignored opportunities drudged up things he thought he could keep buried but the floodgates were lifted and he was too weak to hold back. He lost his composure. The only witness was his wife Ella. She cried too.

In the attic where he finally sat, pained by each of the photos he inspected one by one.

Each polaroid revealed a child that had their names written at the bottom. The oldest was Carlton who resembled a Grimes. The next were twins Abigail and Billie Joe. Twins. There was a photo of another child with no name at all. It just said YOUR Daughter Needs A name. Another photo with a son that he presumed was Andre based on 'I AM the Father of ANDRE'. The next picture indicated another son who was smaller than the others and appeared to be smiling, his name Martin Sinclaire Grimes . The last photo indicated what looked to be another pregnancy for the very girl that was in their home years ago. The caption with the middle name highlighted and underscored 'Michonne **Suzanne** Grimes is having my baby again'.

All the photos where taken with his wife's Ella antique polaroid camera which, during that time, would mysteriously come up missing whenever their son Rick would vanish.

Six kids total. His grand children.

* * *

A/N:

I am devastated right now. I've just lost 5k words to this story for this chapter and I want to just ...I have the next chapter that won't make any sense without the 5k words that's missing. OMG! I deleted this chapter in documents by accident and I have no other copy other than the sample above.

Anyone that is still reading this story, your patience and interest is greatly appreciated. Those that have given up on this or me, I understand. Just know if you are ever bored out of your mind this is something you can come back to in the future. I have to regroup. Two more Chapters of this coming sometime tonight. I am really trying to get back to posting often and fight through the allergy medications.


	43. Chapter 43

"Like many men and women who make egregious and irretrievable mistakes with their own children, she would redeem herself by becoming the perfect grandmother."

 **― Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tides**

* * *

Tears may have changed everything if his son had ever witnessed his Dad cry openly. Grieving is not a sign of weakness nor defeat, Ms. Ella, thought to herself.

Ella had gone all over the house looking for Senior. The ladder was an indication of where to find him.

The last Polaroid was of the girl that appeared pregnant again, and it was dated almost four years ago. It was the girl that was in their home when she was much younger. Ms. Ella recalled the time as a period of great concern for her and her husband. It was the first time their son had ever brought a girl home. It was the first time he ever had one in his bedroom. It was the first time they were ever aware of him having sex or sexual. Rick was 22 years old and covered in his Uncle's blood.

Ms. Ella stood back and monitored their interactions once her son, and the African American girl finally came out of his bedroom. The young girl was referenced to them with two names, Michonne and Suzanne. She was shy in their presence, but if Ms. Ella managed to remain unnoticed, she was able to pick up the difference, although subtle, but distinguishable between the two. One was serious and the other was easily moved to laughter, smiles, and words of encouragement that seemed to keep Sinclair wrapped around her pinky finger. What Ms. Ella was able to determine was that no matter who her son was, he seemed to delight in her company.

The two of them continued to stand or sit close to one another at every chance. She could hear when Rick would speak softly versus when Sinclaire spoke boisterously with platitudes and expletives when he thought he erred in making his girlfriend happy for any reason. Ms. Ella could tell that Sinclaire got a kick out of parading his Suzanne around the house and all around King's County. They were always hand in hand, and Rick would take her by her pinky as if a promise had been made somewhere in the silence in which they would lull in and out of, at random.

What surprised Ms. Ella most was when the young girl would actually refer to their son as Rick. Before he had brought the girl to their home, Ms. Ella and her husband had no real awareness that Rick was actively participating in anything that was going on around him. Most times, though it was just Sinclaire, and with him around, Ms. Ella and Senior tried to steer clear.

There was something else that Ms. Ella realized to her dismay was that she never had a conversation about women or girls with her son. They never talked about dating or love to any degree. Her son wasn't interested in the topic, and it was difficult to find a way to bring it up. Her husband, Senior, wasn't even sure if their son was attracted in the opposite sex. Rick seemed to choose to spend most of his time with Shane.

Ms. Ella had to admit, it did surprise her husband while at the County Fair, before the introduction to this girl, Rick did spend the day with a pretty Brunette named Lori who was from a town over. Lori was obviously smitten with their son who wasn't disagreeable to her hanging around him as he helped unload the jars of Peach Jam. She was the only girl that Senior deemed fit for his son after witnessing what was going on down at the boathouse and the blood of his brother seeping towards his feet.

Her dreads were piled high on top of her head and she radiated in the flower dress that she wore. Ms. Ella could see or understand the attraction her son had with the dark skin girl who smiled often at him and wasn't afraid to be disagreeable. Normally it would set Sinclaire off but he was putty. Absolute putty. She made him tolerable to have around.

'You want some?" Sinclaire asked.

"I've never had cake for breakfast, Sinclaire." Her face marveled at the idea and how odd an offer it was for her.

"Rosa is making us some breakfast. I hope you like eggs and bacon?"

"I do."

"Good. You said you were starving. I can hear your stomach grrrr from here. So... while we are waiting, we can eat a slice of cake." Sinclaire was bringing the fork with a sizeable amount of cake to feed her.

She had hesitated, but with the cake brought to her lips by Sinclaire, she opened and enclosed the white fresh morsel with delight. The smile that grew on both their faces was what Ms. Ella remembered while standing in the attic relaying it all to her husband years later. It was in the way her son kissed away the crumbs from the girl's lips and the cream from the corners of her mouth while she giggled, reassured Ms. Ella there could be normalcy at some point, a bit of peace for him, for her only child that she loved and adored.

Senior reminded her that he had to be the bad guy that day, years ago. He had to speak up. He had to be sure of this girl's age and if she was with their son on her own free will. That scream she let out was enough to chill his bones a few night back.

"I'm eighteen. A few weeks ago was my birthday. I'd graduated from High School. Not in that order." Michonne began to bite her nails. Suzanne made her take her hands and sit on them.

The relief was visible on both Ms. Ella's and Senior faces. She wasn't underage. Young but not illegal.

"Where do you live?" Ms. Ella was concerned that the girl was possibly homeless. She had been in their home for two weeks at this point.

"About a hundred or so miles from here."

"How did you meet our son?"

"At the doctor's office. I was in the waiting room."

"Waiting room?"

Michonne nodded. She was unsure about the line of questioning.

"You work there or a patient?"

"Patient. I work at the grocery store."

"Dr. Deanna?"

Michonne nodded.

"I was kind of scared of him for awhile."

"Scared of our son, why?"

"Why were you afraid of him?" Senior knew of reasons to be frightened of his son when he was no longer Rick.

"Because he liked me."

Ms. Ella seemed to warm to this more so than Senior. It was honest and straightforward as was the smile that grew instantly on the young girl's lips.

"I'm sure you have other boys much closer to your age that likes you. Boys more suitable, agreeable to what your own family may want for you. We are the same as your parents. We have an ideal person for him as probably your family has for you. You both will do better with someone that shares the same culture or background."

"Senior Grimes!" Ms. Ella scolded.

Suzanne shrugged, "Doesn't much matter who likes me, I only love Sinclaire. No one else." Michonne was wondering where was the question and how did she allow the other to speak on her behalf.

"Well, we all think that at first. There will come a time when someone else comes along and sweeps you off your-."

"There will be no one else," Sinclaire stated abruptly. His brow furrowed.

Sinclaire stepped on to the patio where the conversation was happening. He had a pool towel draped on his shoulder, and he was holding two ice cream cones that he had prepared for him and Suzanne while she sat outside drying off from their play time in the swimming pool. She only stayed outside and not follow him was because he had insisted. He wanted to surprise her with the treat. He wanted to see her surprise face. He loved her surprised look. Her happy face. Her sleeping face was beautiful, but he REALLY liked the sex expressions she made when they were up in his room. He was fascinated by what she loved about him doing certain things and finding things he did to her pleasurable. In the daylight, with not much to conceal what they were doing in the pool, he was blown away by her expression that indicated impending orgasm. It was like a light switch was turned on, and she was the one who controlled it. Deep down he knew, there wasn't going to be anyone else for him. No one else.

He was pissed off that his parents were sitting outside at the patio table with his girl trying to introduce doubt.

Suzanne eyed the ice cream cone with great enthusiasm and eagerly took what was offered to her. She was surprised when Sinclaire planted a kiss right on her lips in front of his parents. His parents didn't seem fazed by it.

"No one else for me. No one else for him." Sinclaire spoke directly to Suzanne who apparently understood his declaration.

"No one else for me. No one else for her." Suzanne responded back with their pledge.

"Well, you can't be so sure of that, son."

"She's willing to be mine. We've discussed it. I'm crazy about her. I guess it means I'm in love. I'm going to marry her and it's the plan."

"You both don't need to rush into anything." Ms. Ella was surprised by what they announced so freely.

"We aren't rushing. Sinclaire says we are going to get married. He wants me to be his wife. I want him to be my husband."

There wasn't anything that could be said to the two that would change their minds. Senior and Ella knew they were dealing with Sinclaire a lot more than usual, especially since Rick was off his medication. He insisted at the time to never retake another pill. Shane was the one who informed them that Rick refused to have his prescriptions refilled.

"What does the other think about this?" Ms. Ella was trying to allude to Rick's thoughts on the matter. If she could get some clarity, then she would know how to think about this situation.

"He was the one who saw her first."

This was when things use to get sketchy for Ms. Ella and Senior. The speaking in the third person.

"She saw him first. She was scared of him a lot longer than me. She's still kind of scared. My Granny says fear is the devil's control. The devil doesn't control me. My Granny doesn't control me either." Suzanne smiled brightly at Sinclaire who was slightly embarrassed by what Suzanne had revealed, and it wasn't her speaking in the third person. He didn't want anyone to know how crazy religious and ignorant her family was. He didn't think Suzanne was ignorant, not by any means but the things she has told him would concern his family for sure.

* * *

A/N: I have to say losing those original 5k words may have been a blessing or I just made a more convoluted mess of this story. I will let you the reader decide. It took a long time to come back to this because of that and I had to review and review and step back and review some more my intentions with this story.

(1)

I also want to point out or discuss my thoughts for a second or two before I present the next chapter. When I write Sinclaire I envision him as the man that would bite the throat out of a man. That version of Rick Grimes in the Walking Dead where he doesn't take shit and you better not fuck with him because he will GO THERE. What I am having difficulties with is relaying the fact that Rick and Sinclaire are the same. They don't see it of course but as the reader I am trying to present the extreme versions of their personalities and I could be failing miserably at it. I know it shouldn't be this deep and technically this story doesn't belong here. I may remove it.

What I am trying to do is mirror the nuances of that Rick on the show to this very complicated Rick in this story. The ability to go from _Normal to_ deranged. I just hate that it is getting lost, the fact that it is coming across in a way to root for Rick and not Sinclaire or vice versa when I am trying to create a root for HIM.

(2)

You will see a lot of him, her, he, she. I want the reader to determine in their mind unless specified who is or not experiencing what and when. Who would more than likely do x,y, and z based on what you know or what is said about each character.

(3) On Tumblr I posted pictures of the children and how I envision them. Now that I have a clear picture to what they look like I find I may have an easier way to write children in a story. I know, I am weird. Lol. I love my version of Marty. I am going to have fun with him. I also have an infinity for Ghost also known as Jasmine Amber Jean.

(4) Thank you for reading and reviewing or just reading. If you have given up I have other stories if this theme is not to one's liking or if it doesn't somehow mysteriously vanish. Poof


	44. Chapter 44

"People have done this before, but not us."  
 **― Ada Limon, Bright Dead Things**

* * *

This was a confirmation of his sexuality. If he wasn't so heavily medicated he may have experienced a curiosity about the opposite sex or even the same sex, long before then, but he was pharmaceutically castrated and mentally neutered. The weaning off of his medication didn't come without repercussions. Without his Dr. Deanna and drug combination, he began to hear more of the cheers and the boos with every decision that he made.

The Constant chaotic noise and an increase in his compulsive disorder to check, recheck, and recheck what he had already checked began to take over rapidly. Contamination was looming to take a significant role in his daily routine until Sinclaire made his presence known. He had realized then that his shouting alone in his bedroom was his only way to maintain a small degree of normalcy even if the voice wasn't _his or_ the act of tossing the alters back in the pits of darkness weren't necessarily his decision. Sinclaire meant business. The weaker Alters knew if they didn't keep quiet there was no place for them. Sinclaire made sure of it.

Rick was surprised to find Michonne on top. There was a fear that gripped him. He froze, eyes wide, at first refusing to take in the visual that was before him but what he saw could not go unseen. It was all disconcerting to find that his Dick did respond and was hard, harder than he ever remembered or imagined. A quick glance indicated that she had him completely engulfed inside of her, gliding in and out. Warm, wet, and snug, were the only words that came to mind if he were asked to describe what it felt like to be inside of a woman, a female.

If he were asked how it made him _FEEL_ , he had no words. Not _then_ did any descriptive words come to his mind, much later he found one. Or maybe two to quantify it?

There wasn't a feeling just yet that toppled fear. How did he get here, her here, like this? His question caused him to take on a more literal view of what was before him. Her dreads covered her face. Her arms were in the way of her small breast. Her hands were planted on his chest. Her dark thighs on either side of him could have been the reason he could feel a warm secretion beginning to drip, spread slowly down his scrotum.

When everything she was doing began to cease, his body surprisingly reacted with a tinge of ache and an increasing pain that traveled where she continued to submerge him down to the base. She had stopped moving, and he didn't dare sit up.

"Do you want me to stop?" She had asked breathless and dazed.

That look indicated that she was enjoying herself. What she was doing was for her own self-pleasure and for Rick's mind self-pleasure and the look that it carried normally would look like someone, people, a person, masculine and representing dominance, power and the abuse tied to it with a strong hangman's knot. Either way, this was something still very different, for she was one person, first person, the only person, Female, feminine and more than that, she intrigued him with bright Daisies, enlisted him, gave him a _choice._

"I don't know."

Rick almost didn't recognize his very own voice. It was his, It was his words. It was his honest response while his heart began to make a sudden introduction with rapid beating, his chest heaved, increase in his body temperature, the beginning of perspiration announced that the heat was growing exponentially. He knew that what traveled had now reached his sheets falling from the skin of his ball's sack.

It was his honest reply.

He liked Michonne. He was comfortable enough with her, and she appeared at times less apprehensive to playing video games in his bedroom or hanging around the pool with him. There was one of three bathing suits that he didn't remember buying her, when they had gone into town, was an exceptional choice. He had spied too that she needed to shave near the bikini area. He wondered why she wasn't aware of that. It held his attention, and she seemed clueless as to why his eyes always drifted there.

He had found lots of hair on his razor the next morning and spied that it was pubic hair when she insisted they go to the pool for a morning swim. She was well trimmed. He couldn't help himself in knowing this. He sniffed. He inhaled and masturbated while she waited for him to come out of the bathroom. He released it all down the toilet and flushed.

He didn't mind her sleeping over and sharing the same bed as him. What he could not understand was what would make her think he was ready for this level so soon.

While at the county fair over a month ago he had met a girl named, Lori who was a brunette, very pretty and he kind of liked her a little bit more because she was normal, wholesome, and an Ivy league student as was he. Ideal. This night, at that moment, the comparison was different from what he wanted and what he desired. There the poet presented in his mind the accurate examples of being obligated or going with want.

 _Which can share your journey fully, Dear sir?_

The voice quieted, and the shadow stilled, awaiting _his_ response, all were rooting for an outcome that was designed to keep _him_ in mind, body and spirit.

 _Did he want her to stop?_

"Do you think you might not be into it?" Michonne asked.

"I've never done this. Not in this way. It's like, I am able to feel this with you."

"I never did this either. Not in this way. I want to feel something or...you. I can keep going but, only if _you_ want, only if _you_ wish too."

Her words had him mesmerized. It could have been her trembling with want for him. It could have been her desire for permission to continue with someone that was just as willing with her on top and the other, relegated on bottom. Both waited, unmoving, unsure how to proceed with this new sensation which came upon him without warning, created suddenly by a chance opportunity presented to them both.

His hands felt awkward lying by his side. He didn't know how to actually touch her or if she would allow him since the time by the River she told him to never touch her again. He had to ask no matter how awkward it sounded or made him felt in doing so. He was embarrassed that he wasn't smooth like his friend Shane and that he was still in every way a 22-year-old virgin.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. Let me continue?" She had suggested.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just lay there? You can move if you want."

"Can I touch you at any point?"

This caught her off guard.

"How?"

"I don't know, Michonne. I think I would like to touch you at some point. I just need to know if you are okay with it."

"Where?"

"Where _don't_ you want me to touch you?"

Her silence was heavy. There was a burden there, and even though shared with each other _She_ still carried most of the weight. Her eyes watered and he sat up with her still straddling him.

"Okay. I won't touch you. I won't. Don't cry, Michonne."

His desire to keep her eyes dry did no good because she cried as they kissed. She kissed him and cried. He kissed her, and she cried some more. The passionate they became the more she sobbed herself into a moan that melted him. _HE_ and _SHE_ were now fully participating.

Soon his eyes locked with hers, he felt the steady pull of his mind that had no control over his body, the soothing stifle of intrusive thoughts that would normally prevent him in succumbing to pleasure or to join in in some small way, silenced. It was just _him_ and _her._

He couldn't help the bucking upward of his hips as he clenched his fist to stop himself from interfering with her pace. And in doing so, Rick caught his breath a few times to stifle his moans after realizing the sound was coming from him. The build up of tension made it difficult to stay silent. He cursed. He grunted and he softly cursed some more.

He marveled at the strange hissing sounds that he made when his dick hit what he considered the best spot. That spot would cause her to falter, slow, and vocalize that she really liked how it felt to her. Each time, every single swirl, whip, and grind, Rick delighted in the fact that _HE_ could make her go crazy like that over and over and over.

Every time he lifted his hips the inability to control her writhing was nearing impossible. His hips continued to meet her quick jerks with abandon. This was powerfully illuminating because he now understood the difference between what essentially revolted him versus what encouraged him to let go and ride the tide, high and low, low and high. This made him feel good. Incredibly good.

She continued to rock and undulate her hips. Her breast was visible to him now as was her eyes peering into his. He was wholly engaged in this activity that he forgot the _Rule._ It was discovered only then and hurriedly implemented, mostly, from then on.

He was having sex and it felt incredible and he flipped her underneath because he knew it was going to feel even better that way too. Now he was the one writhing out of control until the fist on the side of his head and the painful tug of his hair.

Rick quickly turns her to be back on top, but it didn't stop the pounding she gave him and the fitful scream she made as she did. He grabbed both her wrist, while she still straddled him. They were in a seated position. He waited for her to calm down before leaning forward to kiss tears that were leaving her eyes again, not allowing them to be wiped away either.

Using the tip of his tongue, he tasted the salt. The second he started with the other cheek she took his mouth into a sudden unexpected kiss.

They were unaware of everything and anyone for days at a time. It was a sight for Rick's parents who opened the door to the bedroom due to the screams and tussling, unaware there were 4 people in that room making love the best they knew how.


	45. Chapter 45

"He loved her like the first time every time. Like the first time all the time."  
 **― C.J. Carlyon, The Cherry House**

* * *

Rick sat back after enjoying breakfast despite the grits that he could feel stuck in various places in his teeth. It almost unnerved him if it wasn't at the consideration and delight from Andre that he was able to feed his Daddy. If the young boy that had a good mix of him and Michonne, didn't have the spoon aimed for him to taste he would have vehemently declined.

Granny was going to say something but thought better of it when she watched Andre get up out his seat, holding his spoon carefully in order to not spill any food on to the floor.

"You might like mine better, Daddy. It's not hot anymore." Andre offered standing between his seated Daddy and Uncle Charlie.

Andre called the man, _Daddy,_ and Granny gripped her bible with her left hand as her spoon stilled. She knew that Michonne swore up and down and believed with everything that Andre belonged to Mike. She couldn't even be reasoned with the paternity test that came back negative. Granny knew in Michonne's mind Andre's real Daddy was in Prison. Expecting a commotion, Granny was relieved there was none. It didn't go unnoticed that her granddaughter was smiling coyly over at the father she found from whatever rock he hid. His interactions indicated that he was possibly the father to all the children at the table. Granny wasn't sure what to believe when it came to Michonne and Flower Child working in collusion with each other.

"Not hot?" Rick questioned his son as his mouth opened against its will and took in the lukewarm, buttery gritty mush that was served as a breakfast staple at the table in which he sat. He wanted to gag but wasn't permitted. He quickly swallowed.

"Did you like it, Daddy? Do you want some more?"

"What are you trying to do there, boy child? You got your Daddy here, and now you trying to kill him?"

"No, Uncle Charlie." Andre responded back to the old man at the head of the table.

"See that face? See how quickly he is drinking that juice. He does not like grits." Uncle Charlie explained to Andre.

Carlton offered, "Like Green Eggs and Ham. Daddy doesn't like grits or oatmeal."

"Not in a box. Not with a fox. Not in a house. Not with a mouse..." Michonne recited and all the children smiled while Gladys and Knight squealed with excitement that story time was happening, all but Marty who was fascinated on far his Daddy would go to not eat Grits.

"Can we ask Daddy to read bedtime stories to us tonight, Granny?" Jasmine Amber Jean eagerly waited for a response from the older woman who couldn't hide her amusement until Sinclaire spoke. Her face went sour.

"Jasmine Amber Jean, why would you seek answer from your Granny? I am here. Why haven't you asked me? Directly to me?" Rick's tone wasn't his own but it was his words, his thoughts formulated and spoke out loud seeking understanding from one of his most vocal children.

"Mama gave you the list. We waited but you seem to love on Mama at night." Jasmine Amber Jean replied without thought to what she was alluding too.

Rick turned beet red. He wondered what night would they have witnessed him and their Mama because he was ready to blame Sinclaire for lack of control and decency.

"Heaven's be to Jesus. What have I told y 'all about creeping around in the night. You can't allow the devil to take you by the hand at every chance, I say. Just don't understand it if I have told you a hundred times."

"Can't lock them in their room Granny. Good for them to know I suppose. Man has to get familiar with a woman first. Might be the true order to things. Children come after." Uncle Charlie was dismissive of any potential harm.

"Know what grown folks do?" Granny challenged the old man.

Michonne wanted to shame Granny. She had something to say about how young she was when she found out what grown folks did but Suzanne snatched the thoughts that Coveralls put forth in a form of fragmented memory.

"Get your work books now. Everyone from the table. Get your workbooks. Suzanne announced suddenly, clapping her hands and grabbing plates except for Marty's. "Three bites, Marty."

Marty decided to pick up his bacon. He sniffed it. He put it back down. He sniffed it again as if the smell would change. He rested his forehead on the edge of the table and patted his knees in a way that the bacon grease on his fingers didn't touch his shorts or skin.

"You hear your, Mama?" Sinclaire leaned forward, his attention on his son who Rick thought also needed a haircut.

It was then that Marty removed his head from the table. He nodded, full attention paid to his daddy.

"What did we talk about at the dealership yesterday?"

"Behave."

"Are you behaving?"

"No."

"Now find something on your plate to show you are behaving like we discussed."

Marty's elbow barely made it to the table but he rested his arm and his forehead in his palm. He couldn't fathom what he would eat. He made no attempt.

"He really liked Ms. Jessie's Blueberry Muffins, yesterday."

Every single person quieted when the plate zoomed past her Daddy's head and crash against the wall behind him.

Jasmine Amber Jean offered a tidbit of the day before, without a grown woman's awareness of how it would quickly change the dynamics between her Mama and Daddy. The little girl took note that it wasn't a good thing to mention it and she wasn't sure why, but she knew Uncle Charlie was itching to explain it to her once things calmed down as he rushed her Daddy out of the kitchen with Mama fighting mad behind them.


	46. She Is Going To Kill Us

"In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did and why you no longer need to feel it."  
 **― Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven**

* * *

Sinclaire was pissed. He had to point some things out to Rick right then while Uncle Charlie went back in the house to ensure things were going to calm down or there would be a homicide, whether accidental or intentional.

This has happened before?

 _Yes. This has happened before, and this time you are going to hear me out. This time we are going to do the right thing. The only thing. So help me, Granny's motherfucking god!_

I am listening. I am.

Rick insisted he was paying attention even though his heart was racing and he was trying to keep an eye on the door or listen for any additional sound. The way that plate shattered and the sound it made held his sense of hearing on a paranoid level.

Sinclaire paused to ensure that every word he relayed were heard, felt and understood.

 _I want you to know if it is my Suzanne that comes from out of that house with a gun, and shoots, we may have a chance. We won't know who is coming out of that front door if all you see is MY Pistol in her hand and take off running. We are going to stand our ground. Knowing my woman her excitement would have her aiming at the sky or that tree or porch. We will not run off. My woman can't shoot worth shit. So if it is my woman, then like I said, we may have a chance. Now if it is Michonne, drop to the motherfucking ground. We are not going to run off when the shooting stops either. Michonne will most likely aim at our feet because she wants us, me especially, to get the fuck on, and away from Suzanne. I ain't budging. I am not leaving. YOU are not moving. She is going to have to kill us. A 50-50 chance, she won't. IF it is Onne, I told Uncle Charlie a few years ago to bury us next to the wood pile on the side of the house. Onne makes no mistakes. He is going to make sure the bullet hits the bull's eye._

Rick felt a distinct pressure in the middle of his forehead where the bullet would enter, and based on how close Onne got to him he wondered if he would still be alive to know whether or not it exited the back of his dome.

Rick also got the sense that being buried by the woodpile on that side of the house was where Michonne bedroom window was located, and the only reason why Sinclaire designated that area for their final resting spot. It was his way to remain closest to her at all times.

How was I to know?

Rick questioned the voice in his head.

 _The reason I have to be aware. I have to always be fucking aware. I have to know about everything that you have a problem with or whisper until I am shouting a warning that something is going to be a big fucking issue. I mean, Urine should not be a problem, but it is for you, and now it has the potential to get my woman in a frantic jealous state. Someone is going to have to reason with her, and if Uncle Charlie can't do it, I suggest you decide what you are going to say to her, to explain, yet again, why you continue to entertain Jessie._

I didn't entertain Jessie. I don't entertain Jessie. I really don't remember entertaining Jessie.

 _My woman ain't going to buy it this time. She wasn't there to witness what was going on, but she has a rich imagination. You see, my woman's mind is going to travel to one fucking place as her proof to your infinity to Jessie. She is going to re-live every moment of that River incident. She is going to play it out in full detail, and I be damned, if I am not cuddled up to my woman tonight, and the night after that and so on because of your dumb shit._

River incident?

Rick was grappling for more by seeking information as if he was turning pages to a textbook or rewinding a movie to get back to a particular part of a scene that was haphazardly deleted or the ribbon was erroneously spliced every three seconds. It would take the willingness of Sinclaire to help replay it or spell it out, and it would have to be in closed-caption.

Sinclaire had no words to describe the most profound fear of losing his girl over something that looked a certain way but wasn't that way. The thought of losing her favor affected him deeply to the point he knew he would not recover for there was no other for him.

What happened at the River?

Rick was more than curious. He needed every puzzle piece that he could get his hands on to connect him to his past in order for him to understand where he was today and how to proceed in the future.

 _Everything you think you are not going to do, are the very things you must do, for this thing to work out. I am counting on it. The kids inside of that house is counting on it._

Sinclaire was referring to Marty who had pissed himself at some point at the dealership because of watching his Daddy fight his friend, Mr. Tyrese. Sinclair retreated due to his violent behavior and left a Piss drenched Marty in the care of Rick who instantly had to work through a dilemma of how to, or if he should put an upset Marty in the vehicle who was pissy wet.

Jessie had appeared out of no where with a towel from her trunk to wrap Marty's bottom so he could sit in the new vehicle that Rick had just purchased. He didn't want the seats stained by anything like bodily fluids. He didn't think he could stomach it if they were, and knowing that they were, in that very spot, would drive him insane.

Rick was so grateful that he almost didn't catch the offer of the blueberry muffin until Jasmine Amber Jean grabbed her Daddy's hand instead of the muffin that was quickly snatched by Marty. Rick was overwhelmed by Sinclaire shouting expletives in his head of failing to teach his children that this particular woman had to always be treated like a stranger even it she wasn't a stranger.

Sinclaire didn't care about piss on the seats. They wouldn't be in the shit they were in if he had just put Marty in the GOD Damn car and drove home.

Home... Rick had no clue to where home was and drove around for another two hours before Jasmine Amber Jean recognized something familiar.

It was a blueberry muffin from Jessie. I'd just met her at the grocery store. She's not a stranger.

 _She must be treated like one. My Suzanne doesn't like her, and she is more than likely in the house trying to find my Pistol. She has always said she would use it on me if I am ever in the vicinity of Jessie. Says she will shoot Jessie after blowing away my dick._

What?!

 _She loves me, not what is in my pants._

Rick wasn't amused by what was shared with him by his alter ego. He felt the nervous energy that traveled through him, them, and it wasn't fear of death or having his dick shot off. It was causing his woman, that woman, their woman to doubt his love for her.

What really happened yesterday? Have I ever had a relationship with Jessie?

 _I would hang us both if you had. My dick doesn't work that way, and I be damn. I will not have another woman laugh at you because I can't get it up or I won't allow you to get it up. And don't remind me of that dreadful Lori. Fuck._

What?

Rick didn't know what to do with Sinclaire's obvious disdain for his wife in California who wasn't really his wife. Viagra saved his marriage for awhile until Sinclaire hid those pills to the point the doctor wouldn't prescribed them because it was thought that maybe Rick had a sexual addiction.

 _Listen, I know sometimes you choose to sit way back in the bleachers with the kid. I know you have taken a liking to him and you both like staring at the red and blue Legos, Transformers. I get it. You feel safe here in your head than dealing with the shit around you. But must I be the one to remind you that you are a grown ass man with responsibilities?_

Why do I doubt that I just met her at the grocery store for the first time?

Rick strained and pressed the outer limits of his mind for a recall, a memory, a temporary flashback. He got nothing but what he was told by Sinclaire.

 _You have done more than met her you fucking Jackass. Down by the Red Neck Hollar, you kissed her on the cheek. You got in a fight with her boyfriend the wannabe doctor Pete Sampson._

What?

 _My woman thinks I was fighting over Jessie. I was not. I only stepped in because you didn't seem to know how to take him down. He was trying to choke you and-_

I fought someone over Jessie?

 _NO. Goddamnit. Self defense. He was coming at you. You always seem to be around his girl. He was jealous about it. He was slapping Jessie around some too because he could see she had a crush on you. Flirty. For some reason, you made that shit our problem. You allowed Jessie to give you her burden when I told you to tell her call 9-1-1, or a domestic abuse hotline..._

Sounds like I was being a friend?

 _Against my will and the subtle warnings from my woman._

I can't be her friend? A friend?

 _You know she is flirting with you. She wants to jump your fucking bones, and I promise you this dick will stay limp if I am ever aware._

Hey, wait! I'm not trying to mess around with Jessie.

It was true that Rick found himself in compromising situations in the 11 years he has known the one he loved the most. Those times happened on his way back to her, somewhere on the road of walking and hitchhiking to get home to her. Each time he found himself with a lifeless, flaccid, unflinching penis. It only worked for that woman who readies to murder him as promised from years ago.

Rick was sure about his thoughts yesterday and right then in 2018. He had no idea what he may have felt years ago, but he could attest for that very second. He did not want Jessie and couldn't fathom why he would want her, other than he had to have been out of his mind.

Sinclaire was relieved to have complete access to Rick's thought process at that point. Usually, the walls were high and took some time to scale them, but Sinclaire found unrestricted access.

 _I know you are not trying to mess around with Jessie. Jessie knows that too. Our two kids that were present can vouch for us. But my woman has to be ready to listen and believe it, if she doesn't kill us first. She would die without me, just so you know._

I am really not trying to die today to find out whether or not _SHE_ would join us in some form of purgatory.

Sinclaire paced. Rick Paced. They paced. One, the other, the same.

Rick was frustrated and flustered. Flustered and frustrated. The two weren't a good combination for the man that stood furthest from the front door to give time for his woman to figure out where HE was and set up her crooked aim.

He had hoped Uncle Charlie secured those weapons somewhere his baby couldn't reach nor find. God how he loved that crazy ass woman. It hurt deep how much he loved her. Only her. Always her.


	47. She Is Going To Kill Him

"Anger ... it's a paralyzing emotion ... you can't get anything done. People sort of think it's an interesting, passionate, and igniting feeling — I don't think it's any of that — it's helpless ... it's absence of control — and I need all of my skills, all of the control, all of my powers ... and anger doesn't provide any of that — I have no use for it whatsoever."

 **[Interview with CBS radio host Don Swaim, September 15, 1987.]"**  
 **― Toni Morrison**

* * *

How was I to know? Rick asked the voice in his head again.

 _The reason I have to be aware. I have to be aware._ _She's the one that threw the plate at you._

I thought you said she was a good aim?

 _Random objects she is, I am just faster. A gun she is 80 percent accurate, Onne, deadly. If it wasn't for me you would have been more than likely knocked out cold on the kitchen floor._

"Then why in the hell did you not let me speak on behalf of us?"

There was an answer to his question because, in truth, Rick was partial to blondes and brunettes. It was in his DNA. He was a typical man with eyes. He found women in general attractive. Not in a sexual way like with the woman in the house.

I know you don't believe it but I was only friendly, and you were being rude and making me come off like an asshole. Nothing more than that. Yes, Jessie is attractive. I knew she was flirting. I know. I was really grateful she wanted to help me with Marty.

 _Reason why I am nervous to have you speak for us. That shit was speaking for yourself. What you just said could get us both killed and buried fucking face down. My Suzanne can't fucking shoot but the smoke from the gun won't be like anything she will plot in the night while we are trying to sleep. You better make this shit right with my woman."_

* * *

Uncle Charlie noticed the kids had already gone to get their workbooks and were waiting for someone to instruct them on what to do next.

Granny had already swept up the broken dish from the floor and had begun washing dishes. She knew what Uncle Charlie wanted to know. She did not wait for him to ask.

"It's Flowers all over this place, Lawd have Mercy."

"For true?"

"Yes, Indeed. Lawd have Mercy. Flower's don't know what to be upset about, I say."

"For true?"

"Upset that Michonne got her dressed like someone not fit to be seen outside, went to go change in one of her dresses that I thought sure we hid away from here."

"Yes, indeed."

"Indeed."

"Where is my flower child or I need to hunt for her?"

"She puts those flower dresses on like magic. Devil is good at deception, but in a dress, we know for almost certain who is in the house. Especially talking crazy like she does. Saying she has to look like a somebody or at least presentable for a mug shot. Crazier than any Jesus bug ever created. Didn't have the heart to tell her they would more than likely take her to the crazy house where she more than likely belongs. No one ever ask me."

"Yes, indeed. I'm glad no one is asking you to have my Girl Child put away. Not when she can still be reasoned with more times than not. If she took the time to change her clothes than she can be reasoned."

"As quick as that, I tell you. She'd come from out her bedroom and came in here looking for the pistol. Rummaging in the drawers and cupboards looking for it as if she hid it somewhere in the kitchen between the butter knife and a soup spoon."

"Which way she go?" Uncle Charlie glanced about and listened for the sound of his Girl Child moving around the house.

"She was about to go up them there stairs, but I told her the last time I saw the gun it was in the backyard by that rusted old water heater.

"Ain't no gun outside, Granny."

"I know that. You know that. Kids in the kitchen now know that."

"Yes, indeed."

Uncle Charlie understood the old woman's logic about confusing Flowers as much as possible to buy time.

"First thing to come to mind about where we wouldn't hide a gun if we were in the business of having no good sense about us, you hear me?"

"Can't have her go up those stairs, Granny."

"She goes up those damn stairs if she wants too. She knows damn good and well, not to rummage in my room looking for no pistol."

"Yes, indeed. So, she has on her flower dress, you say?"

"Indeed, she does. She will be exhausted soon. She knows better than go up in my room looking for anything."

The whole thought of having her privacy violated had Granny fired up as she dried the dish and placed it in the cupboard less than gingerly.

"Girlchild," Uncle Charlie focused his attention on Jasmine Amber Jean. Uncle Charlie knew he would be able to get the story from Jasmine whether he asked the right questions or not.

"Yes, Uncle Charlie?" Jasmine Amber Jean responded.

"Did you see any funny business between your Daddy and that woman with the blueberries?"

"No, Uncle Charlie."

"Now tell me how it comes to be that Marty took something from a stranger?"

"Well, the lady came and helped Daddy because he didn't know what to do."

"He didn't think to ask you, girl child?"

"Daddy did. I told him Mama would know what to do about it."

"Do about what? And how did the woman help him, girl child?"

"Daddy didn't know what to do after fighting Mr. Tyrese at the Dealership and seeing that Marty peed himself."

"Good God!" Granny exclaimed. She had to dry her hands first before she clutched the bible to her chest.

"Your Daddy was fighting?"

"Yes, Uncle Charlie."

"Law called?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?" Granny questioned the abnormal process where the law wasn't called to stop or take a report about a public brawl.

Jasmine Amber Jean shrugged her shoulders again. "Mr. Tyrese said to not call and that he didn't want any more problems with my Daddy. He said he will stay far away from our Mama."

"Well, I'd be."

Uncle Charlie took his arthritic index finger and scratched his temple. He was bewildered. He never knew a time where a story told to him by Jasmine had him speechless. He lacked the imagination. He couldn't fathom what any of it was about in order to relay it back to his Girl Child to calm her down.

"Tell me how the woman with the blueberries come about to offering?"

"Ms. Jessie helped Daddy by giving him a towel for Marty to sit on. She had blueberry muffins in her car when she came back over to us. She was asking me if I wanted a blueberry muffin first. Mama said to never ever take anything from a stranger so I looked to my Daddy when Marty snatched it from her. Ms. Jessie wasn't mad about it. She was laughing when she asked, Marty, would you like a Blueberry Muffin? And Daddy wasn't happy about it. He nodded that it was okay. Daddy said Ms. Jessie was a stranger unless Mama says otherwise. He said Mama has to take Ms. Jessie out of the stranger category. Daddy says we can only have things with his permission and Mama's permission first. Daddy told her next time before she offers anything she better ask him or our Mama first, but he allowed it that way just that one time since Marty had already taken a bite." Jasmine turned her attention to Marty to scold, "You aren't going to ever do that EVER again, right Marty?"

Marty shook his head. He understood.

"He could have snatched it from Marty." Granny was stunned by this account of allowing a child to take and keep.

"I guess he did the right thing. Nothing worse than taking something from a child when they are enjoying it." Uncle Charlie ruffled Marty's head of hair. "Did you enjoy that blueberry Muffin, young boy child?"

Marty smiled and nodded. He loved when he had his Uncle Charlies attention, and he had it right then while everyone at the table continued to look on for understanding.

"I sure like blueberry muffins too, and because of what happened we will never have blueberry muffins in this house. Not with your Mama tied up in a fit about it and not knowing the history other than what young girl child just told us."

"Are blueberries muffins bad?" Carlton was the most confused and slightly envious because he had no idea what blueberry muffins tasted like. None of the kids had ever had a muffin, and Jasmine Amber Jean and Marty were the only two that have.

"Blueberry Muffins on its own, I have to say no. The blueberry muffin from Jessie or any woman is not a good idea for a Daddy or Man that has a mother to his children or woman that loves him. People lure in different ways and sometimes they try to go through the children to get to the daddy. Or it could be the mother of the children doesn't want any of her young'uns to think for one minute that someone's blueberry muffins is better than hers."

Granny spoke solemnly, "Now we got poor sweet boy child that will forever believe that this Ms. Jessie's blueberry muffin is the best he ever had." Granny shook her head at the thought of Marty being lured by blueberries for the rest of his life. "But let's thank our Heavenly father for blessing me with the skills to bake a better blueberry muffin, yes, indeed. I will tell that Daddy of yours if he goes out again to bring us some ingredients and we will have our own muffins."

"We are going to have to put some time between this blueberry, Granny, and your Blue-"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Granny paused, and everyone sat still. Uncle Charlie sighed heavily.

Outside Rick was still going back and forth with Sinclaire. His back was to the front of the house.

Is this something you are used to?

Rick was pointing out the violent tendency that was at a deadly level.

If you don't listen! If my woman comes out that god damn house with a gun and shoots we are not leaving. You had me _out of here the last time she tried to kill us. It will not happen again. I will not leave my woman. I will not go another moment without taking care of my kids inside of that house. Do you hear me?_

Rick was silent. He was aware that there were aspects of his thoughts that Sinclaire wasn't cognizant due to their shared stress level, but Rick had a desire to stay. He wasn't just visiting by any means either. And if he only knew where his damn phone was, he could make it official to everyone. He was planning on staying put. He wanted to try and see this through or see where it led if Michonne wanted him in that role officially. He wasn't going to push her, and he was prepared to resist whatever forces that would say otherwise.

He had plenty he wanted to discuss with Michonne. And with what happened in the bathroom that morning he felt more in love with her than ever. It gave him such a rush that he was keen on staying put but losing his dick in the process wasn't what he bargained for, and Sinclaire was ready to risk it.

If she comes out in a dress and shoots...

Creak...

Bang!

The sound almost had Rick ready to shit himself. Sinclaire was pissed off that his back was turned.

Bang! Bang!

What Sinclaire saw, he could not un-see. His woman slamming the screen door over and over, completely frustrated. Rick was hesitant, but Sinclaire was not. He ambled over closer to hear exactly what she was ranting about.

"I can't find the gun, Sinclaire. I can't find your pistol, and I am tired of looking for it, and no one will tell me where it is."

"Well, if you calm down you will find out what happened."

"I told you to stay away from her. You know I don't like Jessie. You know this, Rick. I lose all control over her and I can't keep her in the house. She's mad."

"Michonne?"

 _Talk Goddamn it. Tell my woman. Calm her down._

"Why are you insecure about how I feel about you?"

"I am going to find that gun Sinclaire. I am."

"I just got back here to be with you. You want to kill me already?"

" _He_ says the gun is somewhere in the house and that I wasted too much time looking for it outside."

"I ain't been with no other woman in that way, ever. I don't want Jessie." Rick felt the pain in his head lessen when he said the last four words.

"What about him? He married you off to that woman in California. You said he likes, blondes and brunettes. You told me this." Suzanne questioned.

"I bought you a brown vehicle. Brown is my favorite color. Always been partial to you. The moment I saw you at the doctors office. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

 _Ramble much?_

"I am him, Suzanne. Just like you are her. I can't love easy like the way you think I can. Easy to love you when you don't make it so hard. A gun makes it hard, Suzanne. Doesn't matter if it is my pistol. I happen to love you no matter what or who you happened to be at any given time of the day."

Rick wasn't sure who was actually crying on the porch, with her forehead resting on the strongest part of the screen of the front door.

"I'm not going to kill you Sinclaire. I can't kill you, but I will shoot you between your legs." Suzanne sobbed.

Rick swallowed hard the closer he got. She was devastated and the level she was carrying on confused him and concerned Sinclaire.

"What's really wrong with you, Suzanne?"

"I really think I am pregnant." That was what Suzanne revealed to who she thought was Sinclaire.

What Rick heard was, "I really think I am..."

Sinclaire took over completely. Rick lost a significant amount of time.


	48. Coverall Makes Another Appearance

_"know as I swim that I have large pieces of me not yet healed, and I do not feel ready for this joining. Better for all the disparate parts to be completely healed first. But even if I had used all my strength and resources, even if I had gritted my teeth and dug my heels in, even if I had screamed "No," I would not have been able to stop this rip tide. It happens, and I am carried afloat on a major wave of reuniting and melding. All survivors of this kind of abuse will have their own rhythm and order to their joining."_  
 **― Wendy Hoffman, White Witch in a Black Robe: A True Story about Criminal Mind Control**

* * *

"What did this Bitch just say?"

Sinclaire climbed the stairs before Rick could lift his foot to take each porch step, one step at a time.

"Excuse me?"

Sinclaire didn't take to kindly to anyone calling his woman outside of her name. It didn't matter if the words carried a different, masculine inflection, coming from her very own mouth.

"You have a damn hearing problem too?"

Onne questioned the bearded man that always seemed to bring his lily white ass back, time after motherfucking time. If he hadn't proven himself useful, Onne had the mind to snap his neck or stab him in his sleep for continually rubbing, humping, kissing and sweet talking one of them very trifling bitches to spread their legs so he can plant his seed over and over again. The bullshit had to stop.

If it was true that one of them was pregnant, Onne swore he was going to drown them that lived in his head with every memory, pain, lurking in every imaginary corner, patiently waiting to steal their light, hope, joy. Onne was ready and vowed to bring on madness, which would cost him his very own existence and the battle will be between the two that would remain standing in one body, locked away in a mental ward or possibly lying with their back to each other in a grave dug by Uncle Charlie as requested.

"Only when you call my woman out of her name, my hearing is pretty damn good." Sinclaire snapped.

"Your woman? Woman?" Coverall scoffed at the idea and spat over the porch railings like a professional tobacco chewer.

"Questioning me indicates a possible hearing problem." Sinclaire stood firm.

There was a stare down between the sharp lit blue sky versus the dark brown impenetrable earth. Both were looking for any semblance of retreat based on fear, or apprehension. The only thing a clinical psychologist would spy from the interaction was that one was steeped in denial thinking he would find the sun buried, and the other thinking he did not need the rain.

Sinclaire wasn't scared of Onne, they held the same conclusion about Man, and they weren't in the business of keeping things hidden from view when shit hit the fan. They knew the whole story of what, when, how, where, while only echoes continued to lament over the-why. Why?

"You don't frighten me." Onne began to flex her stance.

"That goes both ways," Sinclaire responded just as testily.

A moment passed like the barely felt breeze that carried the humid precipitated dew from the plants and trees that grew. The uninvited black flies buzzed and zipped the same way Onne suddenly fanned the air to change the subject.

"Did you kill him?"

"I guess if I did, I wouldn't be here but in jail, with enough witnesses at the dealership to put me away for life especially if I had the losing hand in that fight."

Sinclaire knew he was part of the good ole boy club. If his race were reversed there wouldn't have been a slow hesitation to call the law. And if Race wasn't a factor, then it was indeed the swift approval from his black card moments before the altercation to keep the sirens uninformed.

"Why the fuck not?" Onne disappointment was evident.

Onne didn't care if this fucker standing before him on the porch was picked out of a lineup of bearded fuck around fuckers, that would have been the best second thing to happen to keep him away. The first was to find out where Tyrese's Uncle ran off too.

"'Cause I had two of my kids with me and couldn't just take them on a ride along. It was enough that they watched me beat the shit out of a big ass linebacker. I had to practically strangle the fucking information out of him."

Onne sized Sinclaire up observing bruises old and new. "He's big enough to stump your ass. Don't look like you too worse for wear."

"He knows how to tackle. I know how to fight unfair, but I know how all the same. Couldn't have my kids see me that way and-"

"Fucking man pussy." Onne did not hide his disgust.

"This _dick_ likes your pussy."

Onne was caught off guard by this response. It unnerved him. It caused him to feel unbalanced with the visual of Daisy Petals. Suzanne was fighting to take over. Onne held the key to keep her locked away with the quiet one who was still wondering what all the fuss was about.

"This _dick only likes your pussy._ " Sinclaire dug deeper.

Shaking his head slowly, Onne felt a strange sensation similar to a full blown schizophrenic attack. He spoke loudly to drown out the voice in his ears. He had to make it clear before he was forced to retreat. His threat had to be made known to all concerned, namely Sinclaire, Rick and any other white dick.

"Let me tell you something right now, you rat face motherfucker, if I find that there is another pregnancy or I suspect one, I want you to know I will kill that bitch myself. I promise you, I am going to walk all of those God damn kids down to social services myself and claim unfit. Unfit you hear me?"

Sinclaire was going to say something. He thought better of it because knowing _his_ woman she would find a way to live as long as he was still breathing. She couldn't even get suicide down right by merging worried that he would fail with Rick. His woman was sly, slick, and devious as any southern belle. The only thing that would kill her would be seeing a bullet hole right in the middle of his forehead. He kept quiet.

"It's the heat my Girl Child."

Uncle Charlie pushed open the screen door catching the part of taking the children down to social services. This was something he certainly wasn't going to allow. He and Granny had already devised a plan if things got turned upside down to hide the children until things settled. This new situation made it all the more tricky.

"What! Old man, I ain't your-"

Onne was ready to protest but catching sight of the bright yellow fabric startled him. He gave himself a good look downward, and he wasn't wearing his coveralls nor was he dressed in a vest and jeans.

"What the fuck? Who put me in this damn dress?"

Sinclaire had no more patience. There was one thing on his mind that needed settling before he could think about anything else.

"Woman, bring your ass out. We need to talk. I want this to be our last damn conversation about this Jessie shit. You hear me? I ain't going to have you accusing me of wanting her when you of all people know damn well, I only love you, married you, keep bringing my ass back to you. Here is where I want to be. Here is where I am. Here is where I will remain. I ain't going nowhere."

Uncle Charlie was speechless. He stepped back inside closing the screen door. This was something. Coverall's in a dress. Watching the transformation without blinking had him bewildered when Flowers came back.

"I'm not going to tolerate it, Sinclaire. I am not! You need to tell him. You need to tell him now, Sinclaire!" Suzanne insisted.

"Why you think he doesn't know? He knows. He got his eye on staying."

"I need more than his eye, Sinclaire. I don't want him talking to her. I don't want him to accept any help. I don't want him to go in her direction. I don't want him in a 9 mile radius of her. Do you hear me?"

"Well, he ain't getting shit else. You belong to me." He shared his woman once, Sinclaire wasn't keen on sharing her good loving again.

"I'm going to kill Jessie, and I am going to tell her. I'm going to tell her to her face to stay away from you and my kids."

"You going to kill her or talk to her?" Sinclaire's head tipped slightly. His Suzanne could always keep him unbalanced but he loved her just too much for it to matter.

"I'm going to kill her, and as she is dying, I am going to tell her why I had to kill her."

"No, you are not. I don't want one minute of Jessie breathing, thinking for one second that my woman killed her for jealous reasons."

"I'm not jealous, Sinclaire." Suzanne was shocked by the accusation.

"I know you are not. I'd much rather her be jealous of you."

"Then why you say it?"

"Because that is exactly how she will see it."

"Well, she's wrong."

"That's right. We have nothing to prove when it comes to us. Do you understand me, Suzanne? I got us a vehicle. He got another one on order for the one that drives. Might get us a car if you want."

"Sinclaire, you know I don't drive."

"I know you don't, but I thought when we don't have all our kids with us, we could have something smaller for just us to go riding around town in. Husband and wife." Sinclaire could barely fight back his smile that crept to lift the corners of his lips.

Suzanne was trying not to beam brightly, but her smile gave way to showing all teeth no matter how she fought against it. She remembered the times Sinclaire would take her all over town, hand in hand, buying her dresses, ice cream and taking her to the movies.

"Goddamn, I love you woman." Sinclaire grabbed her by her waist and pulled her close to him. His heart was likely to burst to hear her giggle from him doing so. "I want to make you happy, Suzanne. All I am trying to do is keep you smiling and laughing."

"I just love you way too much, Sinclaire." Suzanne lightly smacked his shoulder.

"Is there any other way?"

Suzanne could feel the instant rise in his denim.


	49. Rage Does Not Like Dresses

_"When you are a child and the personalities are being formed, you don't realize it. You only understand survival. Yes, you are missing parts of events that you don't remember, but good you don't want to remember them anyway."_  
 **― Angel Ploetner, Who Am I? Dissociative Identity Disorder Survivor**

* * *

The children were getting restless until Granny had told them to draw heaven and angels. She wanted them to be preoccupied until some semblance of a parent would come into the kitchen and start with their book learning. Glady's and Knight found refuge sitting on her lap with their heads pressed to her bosom.

"Only God Knows why they were fighting," Granny spoke aloud to no one but herself. She was anxious.

"Daddy said he fights to keep men away from Mama. He says he fights to get answers." Jasmine Amber Jean volunteered without looking from her art work she was creating at the kitchen table.

"Your Daddy is likely crazy if he must use his fist instead of words. _Please_ and _Thank you_ will take a person very far. Listen to your Granny on that."

"Daddy said that he sometimes doesn't have the patience to keep warning. Sometimes it works, and sometimes you have to beat a person to make them a believer."

Carlton stopped what he was doing and glanced from his sister to his Granny. He didn't say anything. He listened.

"Lord have Mercy." Granny responded. Her eyes flitted from the kitchen entry to all the children that were present at the table.

"Daddy said he isn't like that with everybody. Just people that want to marry Mama, or think they going to marry Mama. He says he has no patience for people that do bad things to kids either. He says the law takes too long or is too soft. He said the only way for fair justice is through him and Uncle Charlie."

Granny pressed her index finger on the closed bible in front of her on the table, "When the law comes to knocking on this door, you are going to be the one to put them behind bars you hear me?"

"Daddy said the one that wears the Coverall's too, but we have to be very careful because we all could get hurt in the aftermath. Daddy said that is a rage that can't be controlled."

"What we going to do if your Mama, Daddy and Uncle Charlie are locked up?" Granny questioned under her breath, taken entirely aback that Daddy spoke so plain to a child that could have pieces needed to a crime committed somewhere between their home and the dealership.

Deep down inside, Granny was slightly relieved to know her name wasn't on the tongue of the devil. If three people got hauled away from there, she would have the kids to take care of and keep safe. The mere thought of the babies being split up and in some foster care kept Granny anxious. Some of those foster care homes were ordained and anointed for indoctrination into all things unholy if Granny was allowed time in her mind to fret.

"Rage. Indeed. Yes, indeed. That is for true." Uncle Charlie surmised what he was able to rationalize and what was provided by Jasmine Amber Jean as he stepped back into the kitchen where they all sat. This was the first time he considered that there was more than pain and sorrow but a rage that came in the form of Coveralls.

"Heaven be to God Almighty, please find peace in this kitchen. What they doing out on the porch, Uncle Charlie? You hear anything? You say anything?"

Granny couldn't hide the nervous energy that threatened to affect the children who all stopped to give their full attention to the old man who may have answers to change the mood, to stabilize the atmosphere.

"Strange thing, Granny, I say." Uncle Charlie gripped the back of Carlton's Chair while his other hand thumbed his suspenders.

"For true?"

"Flowers and Coveralls in one." Uncle Charlie shook his head.

"Good God!" Granny exclaimed.

"Don't know about a good God but I hope he is an understanding God." Uncle Charlie uttered without much thought on what he spoke.

Granny was prepared to take her bible and the twins, Gladys and Knight on upstairs with her, "Well, let me make my way up to my room right now. I ain't got time for any confusion with going down memory lane every chance Coverall-"

"Okay, Children! Lesson time! We have a lot of work to make up for since I've been gone, and no time like right now."

Granny sensed that Flower Child had taken back over at some point if things were as Uncle Charlie described and the kids Daddy was following right behind like his life was no longer on the line.

Carlton bolted from his seat to embrace his Daddy.

"Hey, son."

"Don't ever leave us, Daddy."

Sinclaire brushed back the hair on top of Carlton's head causing his son to look up at him as he spoke, "If I have to say it a thousand times, won't matter unless I prove to you that I am not going anywhere. What I am going to do is be here every morning when you wake up and every night when you go to sleep. I have no place I rather be than here with your Mama, raising you, and your brothers and sisters, with the help of course of Granny and Uncle Charlie."

"Mm." Granny couldn't hold back the sound that escaped from her. Their Daddy had acknowledge that she and Uncle Charlie were helpful. It surprised her.

Suzanne was touched by the display from her husband to his oldest son. She marveled when Andre followed suit to hug on his Daddy which caused the flood gates to open. All seven of their children zoomed to find a spot to grip on to their father, all except Marty.

Marty continued to sit at the table clapping his hands excitedly as he bounced in his chair.

Granny smelled it first or she caught a whiff the same moment that Suzanne had glared down at the little boy who should know better than to remain seated in the kitchen without informing or excusing himself.

Marty had pissed himself and it was dripping from the chair on to the floor creeping towards his Mama's sandals.


	50. Sociopath In The Making

_"When you grow up as a girl, it is like there are faint chalk lines traced approximately three inches around your entire body at all times, drawn by society and often religion and family and particularly other women, who somehow feel invested in how you behave, as if your actions reflect directly on all womanhood."_  
 **― M.E. Thomas, Confessions of a Sociopath: A Life Spent Hiding in Plain Sight**

* * *

Under an old oak tree, she sat on a discarded log that once thrived up high as a sturdy branch, but now due to a long-ago storm it was severed, dead. It was her favorite place to sit and to think while watching the flow of the River. A feeling of sadness and disappointment lingered in the background. She, Michonne, felt those two emotions more than worrying about why she was dressed in her Uncle Charlie's old suit. She loosened the checkered bow tie around her neck and unbuttoned a few buttons of the nicely pressed shirt to feel less stifled. The need to breathe was paramount.

Across the other side of the clear waters stood Daryl and Eugene dressed in old tuxedos with matching cummerbunds. The two had spent their time smashing and grabbing anything of value from unlocked automobiles. Easy pickings when most everyone was distracted by the subtle going on with prom held in the gymnasium of Kings County High School.

She heard the footsteps, the crunching of leaves and sticks from the weight on top of the things that littered the ground, she knew who it was before he spoke once he closed the distance between them. She felt a massive darkness center in the middle of her chest. Her awareness was sudden as if shoved by an unknown force.

"Why do you keep running off?"

"Because you keep following me."

Michonne gazed upward at the 22-year old male with what she considered the dustiest dreadlocks she had ever seen. He had made his approach from the left. He had introduced himself to her officially after her near drowning a week back. His name was Rick. Every time she least expected he was always around. Michonne felt it was bordering on harassment, even if all he wanted was for her to be more friendly towards him.

"I don't always follow you."

He didn't wait for her to offer him a place to sit on the log or if she wanted anyone to sit next to her. He sat down without her permission. They shared the log by keeping a large enough space between them.

"Stop lying," Michonne grumbled.

"I just want to talk."

"I don't."

"I do."

His voice was half-hearted compared to Michonne's refusal to engage in simple conversation.

"We have nothing to talk about." Michonne kept with her stance of being annoyed.

"It's not safe running off all the time as you do."

"Just because you saved my life that one time does not make you my hero." Michonne declared emphatically.

"Never thought about being your hero, Michonne."

Michonne wasn't sure why the way he said her name had an effect on her, caused her to focus more intently on Daryl and Eugene, afraid that his type of blue eyes would discern more than she cared for him to know.

"I don't want any problems with you."

"Why would you have any problems from me?" Michonne was caught off guard.

"Do we have a problem?"

"I do not understand you. What problem?"

No matter how Rick was to respond, Michonne was interested in his response. She had been curious about him for a while, or ever since she had been able to discern his intentions, as confusing as they were because it was still unknown, and the verdict was out. He could still be a pervert.

"Well, I had to do mouth to mouth resuscitation, chest compressions. I don't want you to think I took advantage of you in any way." His voice was almost inaudible.

"Mouth to mouth isn't kissing, and chest compression isn't fondling my breast," Michonne reassured him and herself.

"So you understand?"

"Is that what you come down here to talk about?"

"Mostly. Yes. Unless you want to talk about something else."

"I have nothing else I want to talk about." She spoke her first untruth. She did want him to think of something because she was fascinated that he had no reasons to take an interest in her that had nothing to do with taking advantage.

"Do you always pee on yourself?"

"Only when I am scared."

"I thought you faint when you are scared?"

"Only when strangers look at me all moony eyes."

"What frightens you about that? You're beautiful."

Michonne looked to him and then across the other side of the River. "Those eyes aren't looking for no beauty only what they can take and bend and snap."

"I wasn't looking at you like that, Michonne. I promise you, I wasn't."

"What do you call it then?"

"I don't know. I never, you know..." Rick was hesitant about sharing the fact he had no experience whatsoever with the opposite sex. He wondered for a moment if she understood his meaning.

"I don't know. I only know what you tell me. I only know what your actions tell me."

"I think you were scared. I want to think frightened is much worst."

Michonne was hesitant. She could feel him studying the side of her face. This was incredibly personal, and he was one of the few that was aware of her incontinence to a degree. Granny, Uncle Charlie, and Daryl knew intimately what was connected to her inability to control her bladder and what it meant for the one that stirred strong memories.

Rick realized he wasn't going to get a response to his astute observation. He wanted to ask her if she was still uncomfortable with him, but he decided against asking the obvious. Interacting with her now, he could tell that she had warmed up to him when compared to the other times. Like before the drowning and right after the rescue from the river when had revived her. She had socked him in the jaw for brushing a wet leaf from her cheek. Now, she was silent. Not demanding he go away and to never come back after reaching for the black bobby pin that dangled from her stray dread.

"Well, why aren't you at Prom?"

Michonne didn't know why she went to her prom in the first place.

It was only by chance did she see her reflection in the boy's restroom mirror that she was wearing a freshly starched old suit. The more she thought about it, the more she had to fight back tears. She honestly had no idea why, how, when, or where she was until a line of boys stepped aside for her to exit. What she did have were very confusing, mixed emotions. Seeing Sasha with Mike pained her so much more than Mike being with Sasha. There was a sense of things, dynamics she couldn't quite reconcile.

Momentarily she was whole, just one person, dealing with radio silence. Suddenly she was tuned-in to hearing the laughter, the snickers, and the salacious whispers directed towards her. She had quickly turned and bolted out of the gymnasium. Each step she became splintered into three and then it was just Onne who stood outside the school to find Daryl and Eugene pushing the overflowing grocery cart in the same direction he was headed. Onne sought refuge in the woods, nearest the River's edge.

"I didn't go to my prom either." Rick volunteered without a nudge from her.

Rick was wearing a simple modern suit in hopes to go to his first prom. He was standing in the school parking lot trying to convince Eugene to give him his unused ticket. He was prepared to be a wallflower. He only wanted to watch her, be around her, near her, get to know her by observing. The sight of her pushing the school heave double doors open with so much force caught his attention. Watching her run in the direction of the nearby woods was every indication he was not going to Prom.

Rick glanced over at the two misfits tossing stolen goods they had no use for into the River, a hundred yards from where he sat with Michonne.

"Why not?" Michonne could no longer tamp down her curiosity.

"I would have only gone with Shane. He picked a girl to go with instead."

"Why didn't you pick a girl?"

Rick shrugged. "I wasn't interested. Never been interested."

"Do you like girls?"

"I don't know. I mean I met this one girl at the fair almost a month ago. She was nice."

There was something reassuring in the desire he found to continue. To not give up. To find common ground. He would have to share more in hopes she would understand his intentions were to get to know her. All of her. And the only way to do that was to reveal more of _him_ and _self_.

Rick continued, "I probably would like to have gone to Prom. I think about it some. I think about what it means to go or have gone. I know I am saying that now. Hindsight. I know I would've asked you to Prom if we were going to the same school and of the same age."

"You would not have asked me," Michonne mumbled embarrassed by the possibilities of having someone actually saying they would have asked her. The thought alone made her tremble with an ache she could not name but it was related to him making her feel less lonely and more desirable.

"Did anyone ask you to Prom?"

The answer was no.

"I'm here sitting on a log...with you. That's your answer. Didn't have to ask me to know. Unless you want to hear me say it?"

"I don't understand. You are a nice girl."

Michonne glared at him. He quickly corrected his stance.

"You have the potential for niceness."

"I don't think you normally meet nice girls because you wouldn't confuse me with them."

"Why not?"

"I am not them. I am not nice. And, I don't wish to be either." Michonne spoke looking directly to him. Her eyes were locked with his for a long time. It was the fourth time it had happened and she couldn't seem to look anywhere but into his eyeballs hoping to find where he hid his lies. She wanted to see what truth or dishonesty looked like while talking to him.

Also, Michonne secretly wondered what type of girl a guy like him would one day marry and make the mother of his children. She imagined what his type would look like. Instantly Jessie would come to mind. Jessie was in every way perfect. It made Michonne envious. Jessie represented everything wholesome and good. She was more than jealous of Jessie's blonde hair and white skin and her ability to sound cheerful and smile for no reason EVERY SINGLE DAY. Working with Jessie at the grocery store proved her theory that the cheery female hadn't a care in the world.

Rick agreed. "The girl I met before you, she was nice. I think I am very versed in girls who are nice versus you not wanting to be nice."

"What do I have to do with anything?" Michonne didn't like the comparison. To Michonne, it sounded like whoever he had met before meeting her was winning. It stung.

Michonne wasn't aware that Rick was trying to find what it would take to get her to like him. He had no skills and was flying by the seat of his pants.

In his mind, his lips on hers and allowing himself to breathe in her mouth gave him an inclination to want to know a bit more about his mouth on her mouth without the life-saving techniques. He was kind of interested if she was interested in exploring. He wasn't going to push or suggest anything. He was glad she was talking to him.

"Well, I met you. You are a girl aren't you?"

"Of course I am a girl."

She was ready to ignore any possible reference to what she was wearing. What she had on wasn't her choice. If she had a choice and Mike had asked her to Prom, she would have loved to have worn a dress. Nothing too sexy and nothing to churchy but a dress would have been nice if she had owned one to wear for such an occasion as prom.

She continued despite herself.

"Sometimes, I wish I wasn't. This world isn't fair to girls. Gives boys an unfair advantage."

"Not until they become a man, Michonne. Boys aren't safe either."

Michonne continued, "Can't be too nice, you know. People take advantage. Boys and grown _men_ especially. I have to be cautious. I can't go around smiling at everyone. My Granny says the devil loves people that smile all the time. The devil is cautious when you don't look too friendly."

"Are you religious?"

"No, but my Granny is. You? Do you believe in God?"

"If there were a God, my Uncle would be a dead man," Rick declared from a perspective shared with no one ever, just with her. He added, " Two other people I could add on my list."

Before she knew it, her hidden thoughts were spoken out loud, "Reason I don't believe in no God. If there were a God, I wouldn't be afraid, angry, and confused about everything that is going on in my head. I have so many voices telling me things that don't make any sense. I just feel like killing. Like stabbing out every eye or something."

The silence afterward made her nervous and almost regretful. She was unsure how it would be received by him or anyone outside of Daryl and Uncle Charlie.

"I plan to kill my Uncle." Sinclaire's voice was low, a mere whisper.

"I would help you." Onne conspired.

* * *

The tall white male named Phillip Blake who was running for Governor and using the cookout to mingle with his constituency asked with a bemused look on his face when a woman kept staring at him.

"Do I know you?"

Phillip was relieved when she finally did turn her gaze to the kitchen countertop and then to the floor.

Michonne stood frozen at the sight of the yellow daisy petals falling to the linoleum floor, liquifying, spreading, seeping the very sandals she wore in the kitchen. It was the moment that an excited Marty pissed himself. Michonne had no idea where she was and why the past was overlapping with right then and now. The linoleum began to morph into high-end maple wood floors. The kitchen in which she stood in wasn't one she recognized, but the piss she couldn't stop was coming from no one but her.

"Oh, good God!" Granny was frantic, grabbing all the paper towels that she could, hoping that no one came around to where they stood on the other side of the massive kitchen island.

There was an interaction between Michonne and a stranger that didn't go unnoticed by two people; Granny and Rick. Those two people quickly noticed the change in her demeanor.

Sinclaire got a good look at the man in question. It was of no concern to Rick who immediately went to Michonne. Granny did quick work in cleaning up the unexpected mess.

Granny spoke directly to the man who was more than ready to take action when it came to his wife.

"Don't worry about the kids. I will round up all of them. I will pull Uncle Charlie from playing horseshoe if he doesn't stop once he sees me scurrying up the children as I do. We will be in the van in less than 5 minutes, I promise you. Say nothing to Uncle Charlie about what just happened until we are miles down the road I tell you. I don't think Sheriff Herschel got that kind of jurisdiction up in these parts and these type of white people don't seem the kind to mind their business. You hear me?"

Sinclaire nodded while Rick scooped his wife up into his arms, her face buried in his neck as he headed out of the home. This was all done unbeknownst to his friend Glen and wife Maggie who were hosting the cookout in the backyard of the house.

It was the first time that he was fully aware of Sinclaire's dark secret. That moment they were the same. His secret became his own.

* * *

A/N: Edited 11/8/2018 for clarity and as many errors as possible.


	51. What Day Is This?

_"However, it is important to remember that only 15 years ago most major training schools did not accept the existence of child abuse and condemned what they saw as the unhealthy excitement that was considered to emanate from the earliest exponents. The language of their criticism is very similar... to what greets the clinician of today who speaks of DID. It has been a later knowledge that understands the way the shame and trauma of abuse become projected into the professional network leading to splitting and blame."_  
 **― Valerie Sinason, Attachment, Trauma and Multiplicity: Working with Dissociative Identity Disorder**

* * *

Somehow time had slipped him. He wasn't sure if it was a significant amount or not. He couldn't base it on where he was standing inside of the house staring out the screened door watching an old Lincoln Continental retreat along the gravel road. The red plume dusted the air in the distance before the rain began to make haste in drenching everything that was unprotected by the elements.

The scent of blueberry muffins wafted in the hot, humid air from the kitchen's oven. There wasn't an audible sound. Deafness had made its eerie presence by weighing down his eardrums. He had begun to recognize his own pounding heart in his chest the more he became cognizant. Soon the adrenaline began to dissipate, and the throbbing began to finally dim leaving him with an ache which for him, it indicated he was present, sharing, seeing, and feeling from two perspectives. There was another death. The taste was similar to sucking on a dirty penny. He wanted to spit. Instead, he swallowed.

A small fragment had attached seamlessly to a much larger piece to his puzzle. In the past, this was a rare occasion. It was a subtle addition to his narrative, causing an increased sense of an unbalanced view of reality, what is, what was, and what was to be comparative to the now, the right then, and how to view the future.

Rick shook his head in hopes to clear his thoughts. His focus remained that he was home. Under no circumstances was he going to leave unless he was taking all of them with him, and that included Michonne, Suzanne and that evil ass Onne he had to deal with when he least expected.

He felt the tugging of his shirt.

It was Abigail.

Rick easily discerned that Billie Jo was much shier while standing a few steps behind her sister.

He was led by the hand into a sparsely furnished living room where an older model television sat on a wobbly looking TV stand. There was a wire hanger ready to navigate for a signal if it were turned on. The sight had Rick momentarily mesmerized that he had never taken in his surroundings until right then and there.

Rick could not ignore the enormous painting of a black Jesus pointing his finger like the depiction of an Uncle Sam Poster. Somehow that visual kept his attention longer than the colorless walls and the peeling corners of wallpaper from an era that no one in the home would have experienced except Granny and Uncle Charlie. Under his feet, the old unwaxed wood floors seem to creak more in places as he found his way to the couch. It was an old hunter green sofa with a patched quilt draped over the back in a much lighter hue of green, orange, and brown.

The sofa was probably large enough for all the kids to sit on, all at one time if personal space wasn't an issue. And the way his kids slept in the bed with him and Michonne, he was pretty sure space was the least of their concerns, pissing too.

A feeling of nostalgia gripped him unexpectedly when he began to imagine his children in front of the television enjoying soda and chips without him. A memory flashed but was all too quickly stolen, but not forgotten.

 _PAY ATTENTION!_

Suddenly his eyes focused on the paper that was held in front of him by Abigail who was going on and on about her heaven.

Abigail had made her self-comfy on his right leg showing him her artwork while Billie Joe was hesitant until he patted his left leg.

The invitation her Daddy provided caused her to fight her grin when his strong, unfamiliar hands reached and lifted her on to his lap to have a seat.

For Rick, the scent of baby powder or shampoo was unpleasant. The fragrance was attached to something elusive.

Abigail's voice became more crystal clear, distracting him from his hesitation in interacting.

Rick was utterly confused by what he was looking at floating above the clouds, right next to the sun.

"What kind of heaven is this?"

"My heaven, Daddy."

"Well, what is in your heaven?"

"Dresses and pretty shoes, hair ribbons, toys."

"Is that what is in those clouds?"

"See, that one is my everyday dress. That one is my going to school dress. This blue one is my go to birthday parties. This pink one right there is the one I wear for my very own birthday party."

"All of this still goes on in Heaven?"

Abigail nodded.

Billie Joe spoke up to get her Daddy's attention.

"I helped Abigail color."

"Billie Joe is really good staying in the lines. Not a good job right there but on the shoes, it is really nice. All in the lines. Billie Joe made this picture, right here."

Rick noticed the broken crayon that Abigail used to point out the small imperfection of the first picture.

If he was never befuddled before, he was positively stumped by the stick figure with long lines of brown streaming from its head standing in the middle of a heart.

"I drew a picture of you, Daddy."

"That's me?"

Billie Joe nodded. "Mama said you use to have hair like hers a long, long, time ago. Before there were Abigail and me."

 _Ahh..._

The stick figure represented him, and those things were supposed to be his hair.

"Who's heart am I trapped in?"

Billie Joe couldn't help her shy giggle when she responded, "Our heart."

Without thought, Rick hugged both his girls close to his chest resting his chin on each of their heads when doing so.

"It's uncanny how it resembles me," Rick responded with shock and awe with this discovery by looking even harder at the picture.

Rick was aware the voice that spoke wasn't his because it hadn't occurred to him to say anything about the stick figure that represented him inside of a big red heart because his thoughts were on the broken crayon. It should have been thrown away. Why was it still used?

 _She can still color with it. Have you thought about that, asshole?_

"Uncanny?" Billie Joe turned her face to look directly at her father for an understanding of the word.

Abigail did the same. "What does that mean, Daddy?"

 _Must I lie now?_

 _You've had enough practice with that pretend wife and life. I would say you are adept at lying._

"I use to have dreads when I was in my late teens until my early twenties. Uncanny that you knew exactly what I look like back then."

Rick's remark was a jab at Sinclaire and the ridiculous rebellion regarding his choice in hair uncombed versus what Senior Grimes would have much preferred.

Rick continued, "...Strange. Unusual. I've never shown you a picture, but somehow you knew...Uncanny."

"What happened to it?" Billie Joe glanced up at her Daddy's head as if she would spy a hidden dreadlock.

"Woke up one day and it was gone."

His response was the truth. Rick had no idea who cut those dreads off.

Sinclaire, on the other hand, remembered all too well the day that he and Onne had come to blows. She held him in a headlock. He passed out. The next morning he was bald. The cheering squad thought his bald head was a good look to start his first day off at Go Stop to meet with the Board of Directors.

"Were you sad?" Billie Jo asked concerned.

"I wasn't happy." Sinclaire didn't want them to know how pissed off he was when it happened but it was hard to hide it from his voice. Onne was a force to reckon with, and the news that they were married didn't go over well years ago.

"You can grow your hair like that again if you want," Abigail informed him of the possibilities.

"That will not happen," Rick stated firmly. He quickly added, "Your Mama thinks I am more handsome with my hair like it is right now." He recalled a moment where she saw him for the first time without them and how she said she never saw him like that before. The smile she gave him while holding her toothbrush...

The girls giggled.

There was truth behind what Rick spoke. He remembered Michonne telling him her preference at some point in time. Suddenly that recall became crystal clear. He married her at some point that day. He had married her...Every detail came spilling forth, vivid as was the act of sitting with two of his daughters. The only thing that brought him back from examining every single second of the past event was the word _birthday party._

"We are so happy we are going to a birthday party, Daddy."

"Birthday Party?"

"We had so much fun at the cookout."

"Cookout?"

"See Daddy. This is our picture. Carlton wants it back, but I am not giving it to him. Me and Billie Joe want to look at it forever. Can't we have it, Daddy?" Abigail and Billie Joe both waited for him to gift it to them.

It was a photograph. Printed out by someone with the capabilities to do so and it certainly wasn't done in the home where he lived with his children for no advance technology was owned, like a printer and he still didn't know where his phone was hidden.

 _What version of Beverly Hill Hillbillies episode is this?_

 _This wasn't taken in Beverly Hills._

 _Rick felt the sigh within or an expelling of air on his brain cells of exasperation._

 _We look like Georgia Hillbillies._

 _Georgia Hillbillies?_

"It's going to be our first one ever! What we will have on our dresses and Granny says she is going to have to find a button that is close enough to match."

"A button?"

"My dress is missing a button, and Billie Jo has a hole that Granny will fix up like new."

"Granny says no one is going anywhere with Dirty shoes. She says we all have to clean our shoes up if we are going to a birthday party. She is going to make sure we are presentable. Granny told Uncle Charlie that he better not wear his straw hat to no birthday party like he did at the cookout. If he does, she isn't going."

 _What in the hell are they talking about?_

 _What I want to know is who invited Granny and Uncle Charlie?_

"Mama will fix our hair like princess style." Abigail made an exaggerated gesture to hair styling made for royalty by taking Billie Jo's hair and twisting.

"Granny says princess style is too grown. We have to wear ponytails." Billie Jo moved out of Abigail's reach.

Granny stepped in the living room speaking to no one in particular.

"Too much to worry about when there is a house full of people and little ones that can be anywhere they ain't got no business and the pretend people that float around here is exhausting to witness. Lord knows the devil stay busy. I can't be everywhere with eyes on everyone at all times. I guess if I could, I would be God. And that is a blasphemous thought in and of itself, I says."


	52. Big Sister

"Children must be taught how to think, not what to think."  
 **― Margaret Mead**

* * *

"The hell with you, Big Sister."

Mabel didn't flinch when the door was slammed in her face by her oldest sister Sadie. Big Sister had Michonne Birth Certificate and Mabel was glad that Big sister handed it over before closing the door shut. The birth certificate had it listed plain as day the father was a man who was older than Methusum.

Charles William Benton.

The whole town or at least the side with the most colored folks knew him as Uncle Charlie. He had to have been every bit of 100 years old if Granny were to tell it but no one knew exactly, and Uncle Charlie didn't know either.

Mabel grabbed her Granddaughter by the hand to get her up off the porch step of a home they were never to be welcomed. Old grievances just couldn't be forgiven and forgotten. Her grandbaby, Michonne was officially the only family she had left that mattered.

"Where're we going to go now?" The twelve-year-old Michonne asked the older woman that she had known all her life as her Granny.

They were at a fork in the road. One paved. The other was red gravel, still wet from the rain that poured down moments earlier. The one they had left didn't matter.

The smell of earth and trapped rainwater down along the ditches where the water mocassins lay in wait were no nevermind to Granny. She moved with a purpose. Her intentions were more in favor of keeping her granddaughter as safe from harm as she could physically provide. The snakes would have to move out of her way or be avoided once spotted.

"I don't know just right off, child." Granny had an idea, but she wasn't sure how receptive her grandbaby would be.

"We could find a Mister." Michonne innocently suggested.

Granny stopped and yanked the young string bean of a girl as good as she could, didn't matter if things were dropped to the ground covered with the very moist color of the road in which they chose to travel upon in hopes it would lead them to a place to rest.

" _WE_ AINT finding no Mister. Now think long and hard about that for a minute. There ain't no _WE_ when it comes to a grown ass man. I am telling you that right now. I ain't got eyes in the back of my head, but I do know what doesn't make sense when I am staring at it."

Michonne's eyes welled up with tears, "I don't make sense, Granny?"

To Michonne this meant an exorcism needed to be performed to get the devil out of her. She was never aware when she was doing it, but all the church members were witnesses from what she could remember from the accusations made against her from the wives of husbands and boyfriends caught with her in some form or fashion.

"You all I got, child." Granny hugged the young girl to her. "I've got to do better by you, or they will surely take you away from me. You know better, you do better. New times we live in where the devil ain't chased away. Bold like a motherfucker. Nobody is allowed to lie on you, no more. I ain't believing nothing anyone says about you when they still allow that very serpent to move about with his head held high. I'm to blame for some of it. I know it now. I testified about it in the church and shamed them all that I knew for certain about."

"Do I make sense?"

"Yes. You make sense. It's them that is confusing." Granny separated the child from her. If she hadn't, Michonne would stay clung to her forever. "Now, no more tears about it. We don't cry about things that can't be helped, you hear me? We hold our head up high because it is the only way to ignore the devil down low."

Granny picked up their suitcases and tried to continue to carry them by the handle with one hand, still using her free hand to clasp on to Michonne after she picked up her books for learning from the ground in which they had fallen. Granny knew then she had to hold tight on Michonne who seemed to morph into the smiling happy child at the drop of a hat. She wasn't going to mention anything and tried to give no notice to worry the child more than need be.

"Where're we going to go now, Granny? It will be dark soon. You always said nothing good happens after dark."

"For true. So very true indeed."

"You think we going to find a place before then?"

"I just prayed on it."

"What God tell you? Has he a good place for us, Granny?"

"Where we going is better than the streets if he doesn't try and shoot us for stepping foot on his land first."

"Who would do that to us, Granny? We don't mean any harm. We can cook, and clean, and sew and-."

"You and this WE. You described everything I knows how to do. I may have taught you some things, but I want you to concern yourself with being a child and staying in a child's place. You hear me on that?"

"Yes, Granny."

"Good."

"Where're we going to go?"

"We going to find your Uncle Charlie on up this road here. I say we are in good hands if I can get him to see things my way. We go way back some. I never lied to him. I have never stolen from him. I can read some and write. I know my pluses and takeaways too. "

"He's a strange Uncle."

"Child, people call him Uncle Charlie and he answers to it. I call him that. And if you want you can call him Uncle Charley too. But he is your Daddy. I'm talking about blood. His blood is in your veins. No pretending. For real. I wonder if he has any clue to where your Mama is because I surely don't know. I do know where your Daddy is and I have it on paper that says it so. He used to drink a lot, and people use to call him Stuttering Uncle Charlie. It was the only way to know that he was on that moonshine. I just pray he done with the Devil Juice. I heard some time back he was. This was way before now knowing he is your Daddy. He stays suspicious, and it takes a while for him to realize no one plotting against him. I think we will be okay though cause, I never lied to him and I have never stolen or cheated him out of nothing. He only has dealings with people that can read and write even though he can't do either. You show him quick that you ain't no fool and you can read, write, and you know your numbers we should be okay. You hear me?" Granny was hoping the repetition would sink into the child's brain that was hard-wired for night terrors and excessive smiling and happiness at inappropriate times.

Michonne was lost in her head. She was thinking about all the times that a Mister was presented as an Uncle and Granny's explanation made this situation the most confusing for her.

"Uncle Charlie my real Daddy, Granny?"

"He is. You don't have to worry any. I've known this man when I was ye' high. He's honest to a fault and he is trigger happy."

"I've never known anyone like him."

"Every child should know their Daddy, I say. He shouldn't be like _just anybody._ _Any man_ can father a child, I say. Not many know how to be a Daddy, and that is for true."

* * *

The sight of Granny's Sister Sadie driving the old Lincoln Continental in reverse all the way to the main road once off of Uncle Charlie's property was a sight to behold more than 15 years later.

Uncle Charlie stood inside the screen door allowing Granny to handle Old Senile Sadie.

Rick was perplexed by the event unfolding before his very eyes. The smell of blueberry muffins confused Rick, so Sinclaire separated temporarily from him earlier to get a better understanding of what his woman was trying to do in teaching their boys the art of baking. Sinclaire was surprised it wasn't his woman trying to create friction over something still unresolved in her mind. He wanted no obstacles when it came to sexual relations once the kids were put to bed that night or any other night.

It was actually Michonne who was busying herself with Carlton, and Andre who both insisted on having a taste of Blueberry muffins. Marty wasn't interested. Marty only wanted to run all over the house with the paper plane that Sinclaire had made for him from the homework he refused to do. Gladys and Knight were sitting on top of the table drawing nothing in particular and Jasmine Amber Jean was reading aloud from a cookbook. With Granny distracted there was potential for havoc. Sinclaire realized that two kids were missing. He wasn't amused but he focused on what Rick wanted to know about right then.

"Who's the old woman and what does she want?" Rick had a vantage point from the front room window before walking over to the screen door where Uncle Charlie stood.

"You are looking at Granny's Big Sister Sadie. Big Sister has been on the hunt to find her husband for the last 14 or so years."

"Where is he?" Rick asked.

"Buried out behind one of the old water heaters. Daisies grew plentiful that year."

Granny had the shotgun ready and aimed at her Big Sister Sadie who wasn't trying to make amends only to stir up trouble regarding her missing husband who was last seen headed over to see about Uncle Charlie. Poboy Leroy who was Big Sister long-lost husband was invited to have a talk with Uncle Charlie some 14 years ago. Granny was of the mind to let sleeping dogs rest and the only way for that to happen Granny let loose a third warning shot that barely missed the front tire.


	53. How Many Misters?

"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass."  
 **― Anton Chekhov**

* * *

Uncle Charlie had no reason to believe it was a lie. Mabel had never lied, cheated, or stole anything from him as far as he could recollect. He lowered his shotgun.

"She belongs to you."

"How so, and if so, how you come about to keeping her and never telling me until now?"

"My girl child Suzanne left her for me to care for. Fresh from the titty if you ask me."

"Say what now?"

"I had to make a visit to Big Sister Sadie to know who the daddy be. No way to know other than that. Paper and words are facts that can't be erased."

"I am an old man. You see that for yourself. You see that with your own eyes. Any child of mine has long been buried. What do you say to that, Mabel?"

"Uncle Charlie, I am going to read from this here piece of paper that says it so. I am not saying it is. This here paper is saying it. I am going to just read what it says to you."

"For true?"

"You know it's what happens when your old ass still tossing seeds."

Uncle Charlie was going to put Mabel to the test. If she was of the mind to pull a fast one on him, she had another thing coming. He didn't discriminate when it came to shooting at someone to get them to hightail it off his property.

"What kind of paper would have my name on it?"

Mabel knew she was being quizzed. She had any and every answer, and what she didn't know, she would repeat over and over as if he didn't remember; she never lied to him, she never stole anything from him or cheated him out of what was rightfully his at any time. If she kept to the facts, she would have a place for her and her grandbaby to stay until she could think of somewhere else.

"Says from Kings County, V-tall," Granny moved her body and arm to motion for her Granddaughter to help her with the word, "What is this word here? Look at it child and tell me how to say it."

Michonne had only shown her face enough to look at what her Granny told her to look at before hiding as quickly as the word left her lips.

Michonne whispered, "Vital."

Granny quickly corrected what she was telling Uncle Charlie from 200 yards away from his front porch.

"Vital records. Your name on here says you this child's Daddy."

Uncle Charlie was already impressed that the young girl could read better than the adult that kept her.

"She sho enough got a good hold on you."

The remark was enough for Michonne to cling even tighter to her Granny who almost lost her balanced.

"Having a hard time is all, Uncle Charlie."

"She got a good hold on you."

"Scared I am going to leave her with you."

"Well, I don't bite none."

"I know that. She doesn't know that."

"What you suppose I am to do about it?"

"Tell me what you THINK you are supposed to do for your Girl Child. I can't seem to reckon why I need to tell you how to be a Daddy."

"I suppose neither one of us have an answer then since neither of us had one during a time we should have had one."

"That is a lie Uncle Charlie. Don't go lying on me. I heard about what you told my own child about my Big Sister is my real Mama. I never lied to you, but you have lied about my family. You can go to hell with that one. You hear me. Hell for you as God as my witness."

"I deal with facts still, Mabel. No stories. Facts. I know what I know because I was there. I'm older than you, you know. Now, tell me are you planning on leaving her here?"

This question had sent Michonne in full panic attack mode. She had fainted. She was out cold on the wet grass that cushioned her fall. Michonne never heard her Granny's response to the question when posed.

 _"Not with any man, I'm not nor ever. Not while I am breathing and she still living." Now everything was up in the air with no thought of going to the hospital or calling on the doctor._

Took two whole days for Michonne to wake up. Granny tended to her while she was out due to exhaustion and fear. And when there was no change in the slight fever getting any higher, and the steady sound of her granddaughters breathing, Granny began to make a home for them in the trailer that Uncle Charlie offered as a secondary option to being on his property. Granny was surprised the old man had the strength to lift the poor child up off the ground and was able to carry her the number of yards it took to get from the front of the house to the trailer.

Uncle Charlie wasn't there when Michonne finally came to her senses. Granny had told him all about it when the young girl finally raised from the dead. He was concerned enough again to ask about his child on the third day, and Granny told him everything was okay and that his Girl Child was doing some book reading.

He spied her sitting at the small table from the doorway. She had never once looked over at him or acknowledge he was there. Mable was quick to turn him around to get going back to doing whatever it was that kept him busy before they had ever arrived looking for shelter.

Uncle Charlie didn't know what to do with the ache he felt from having he in his arms where his Girl child seemed to have imprinted herself on him. Her face pressed to his chest as he carried her after scooping her up off the ground caused him to go straight to his moonshine that he had almost forgotten about up under the porch.

From his vantage point she had his eyes, and his cheekbones and his nose. His girl child only had her mother's heart-shaped lips and skin tone from what he remembered of the day he met the young woman and the day she left him.

* * *

Moonshine.

He ruminated over the word, Vital. He wasn't one to know about all the words that books held and the meaning behind them. Vital in the war meant absolutely necessary. Important. Someone on the paper designated it to be so, and to him it was, Vital.

A few days later Uncle Charlie realized that there wasn't a shy thing about his Girl Child. He knew the difference between shy and fear. The war provided him glimpses in the eyes of falling soldiers whether it was the Confederates or in Vietnam.

He was a man who had lived a long time by his own estimation. Any war he spoke of could rightly be any war that occurred within the last fifty years, but some details suggested otherwise.

Doctor Deanna found the old African American man quite fascinating. She imagined him a great story-teller. She didn't believe most of what he had told her, but she found it riveting none the less as he described a time he could not have possibly gone through and still be alive. He didn't look a day over 75 years old.

"Tell me something, Uncle Charlie, exactly how old are you?"

"I don't rightly know." Uncle Charlie held his straw hat in his hand. He began to wring it like a wash rag needing to be wrung dry.

He was conflicted about his Girl Child out in the waiting room without him keeping an eye out on her himself. A woman promised to keep watch since the Mind doctor wanted to speak to him and him alone with the door closed.

Uncle Charlie began to fret more now that the Doctor had brought him to his senses, with wanting to know more about present day by asking him about his age.

If the Mind doctor had asked him his Girl Child's age, he knew the answer. He even had an idea of how old Granny was, and it wasn't sixty-something even though Mabel believed she could pass for fifty-nine as sure as day carried the sun, and the devil spit lies. He had a strong suspicion Granny wasn't sure about her exact age.

"Based on what you are telling me and the things you say you have witnessed first hand, you would have to be over 150 years old, Uncle Charlie." Dr. Deanna did not hide her skepticism.

Uncle Charlie paused from working his hat in such a way he would need to toss it if Granny had no idea of repairing it. He never before had someone very good at math as was the doctor before him.

"I suppose that is impossible?" Uncle Charlie ventured a guess.

"It is."

"For true?" Uncle Charlie wanted to be sure he was hearing her correctly. He was going to report it back to Granny as it was said to him but only if it was true.

"Highly doubtful. Would you like for me to see if I can locate your birth records, Uncle Charlie?"

"I would appreciate that very much, Doctor, ma'am. I would."

"Do you know where you were born?"

"On my property. It is mine now. I waited a long time to own it. I was born there and will one day rest there."

"Very well. Also, I have some pills I would like for you to give to Michonne. It is for those who want to participate in a clinical trial study. Michonne so far is a classic case that may benefit tremendously."

"Tremendously." Uncle Charley tested out the unfamiliar word aloud with no grasp in meaning.

"Beneficial."

"Beneficial?"

"Yes."

Nothing made his fifteen year old Girl child more crazier than a Bessie bug until after she swallowed that very first pill.

* * *

High pitched screams were enough to wake the old man from his deep slumber. Uncle Charlie could hear the young twelve year old Girl child even over the sound of clapping thunder. He shuffled over to his faded denim overalls. He didn't think to wear a shirt with it because he was in a hurry to see about the one that came to him with the word Vital attached some 200 yards from the house. Uncle Charlie felt if he was indeed the father as Mabel read from the paper than it was absolutely necessary for him to be a Daddy. He thought of Andy Taylor, Ward Cleaver and a little of Charles Ingalls as his only examples from what he recalled from TV shows he watched before the electric was turned off.

In his rush to grab only his shotgun, drenched by the pouring rain, Uncle Charlie banged twice when Mabel opened the door with her housecoat secured tightly, like the pink sponge curlers in her hair.

"Everything okay, Mabel?"

Granny glanced behind her to make sure they were not being overheard since the screaming quieted down significantly.,

"No, it is not! And, what I tell you about calling me, Mabel? Call me Granny!"

"You are her Granny. Not my Granny." Uncle Charly asserted.

"Ya somebody's Uncle but ya certainly not mine, how about that?" Granny snapped.

"I ain't asking you to call me that either. If you want to call me something according to your good book, I am a Blessing. A blessing I am."

"Do you think I got time to go back and forth with you, you got another thing coming. I call you Uncle Charlie because that is what everybody calls you and you answer it to it. I will only answer to Granny from here on out. Coming here with no shirt for? My God is up high keeping the devil down Low, Amen. Girl child sees you like the way you are ain't going to be no reasoning with her. I need you to listen real good cause I don't want your girl child to have it in her mind you a Mister calling on me and soon when my back is turned, you calling on her."

"What you say, now?" Uncle Charlie was stumped at Mister and how many may have been around.

"...you bringing things we need for now. Fresh fish from the River we can make do with as long as we got some corn meal and some frying grease I say that is plenty. I can go out to that henhouse and collect our own eggs for a decent breakfast. Can't complain about nothing with blankets to keep us warm and a bed to keep us up off the floor. Your girl child's mind will come to accept some things even if she doesn't know how to think about it. Some explanations will never make sense to her but as long as you keep saying it and don't deviate from what you said two minutes ago of answering the same damn thing she stays calm. She is going to go on your actions and what you actually say to her. You need to be careful what you do and what you say."

"She had a nightmare?"

"Likely gave me a hard attack most times when I ain't prepared. Didn't know water dripping by the bed. I moved it more to the other corner and put a bucket to catch the drops. Dripped on her leg, and she likely lost her mind..."

He listened intently to what was being told to him that he felt should have been said to him early on. It grieved his heart to hear just a piece of the story that was enough to cut him like a shard of glass across his heart he had no idea was there or could feel deeply.

Mabel kept talking while the old man was partially standing under the awning, any closer he would be standing to close to Mabel who wasn't likely to budge and allow him to enter like he had been doing the last few days since they arrived.

"You may be old but you ain't too old to change your ways and think differently. I am putting it in your mind and if you have any heart what so ever you will call me Granny. No Mister is looking for a Granny. They looking for Mabel or Mabeline. Not a Granny. You come here, calling on me she will believe in every fiber of her body your intentions are dirty. I need you to accept it as the way it has to be. You can't be calling me Mabel here on out."

"How many misters?"

"Don't rightly, know. Not safe in the church either. So many lies have been told on her."

"How many misters, Granny?"

* * *

 _"Too much to worry about when there is a house full of people and little ones that can be anywhere they ain't got no business and the pretend people can come and go as they please. Lord knows the devil stay busy. I can't be everywhere with eyes on everyone at all times. I guess I would be God if I could and the thought is just blasphemous in and of itself, I say."_

The only reason Granny left from out of the laundry room where the delivery men were trying to explain the issue with GFI sockets to Uncle Charlie was to get the children's Daddy to speak some sense into whoever was deemed not to have enough. She needed that Glinty eyed devil or the dazed one to get up and help.

"Shoo, now. Shoo. Y'all too old to be sitting on a grown ass man's lap. Now get up from there or find your seat on the couch. I promise you there are enough chairs at the table. Go on ahead. Go on now. Jasmine shouldn't be the only one keeping an eye on your Mama trying to make blueberry muffins from some Jiffy. Who in the hell brought that up in here while I wasn't looking needs to be the one to eat every single one of them damn things she's baking."

Rick was surprised that his daughters, Abigail and Billie Jo were being told to remove themselves from his lap.

If Granny had looked directly at Rick, she would have seen the confusion on his face. It was unclear to him what the harm was when he too was concerned about a few things like, the cookout, the delivery of the washer and dryer and how long must he continue to dig around the well-pump before he is either electrocuted or damaged it beyond repair. Harming Abigail and Billie Jo was something that would have never occurred to him to do because it wasn't in his heart nor his spirit.

The two girls waited for the final verdict from their Daddy.

Sinclaire had Granny on momentary ignore.

"I think we have some shopping to do to find the prettiest dresses and shoes..."

Both his little girls gasped in sheer anticipation to hear the date and time this would all take place. Shopping was a word that wasn't used often, and it was music to their ears.

"...Your Mama will have to be in charge of the decision making. When your Mama is ready, we will all go out and make a day of it. I bought us a big enough vehicle to get us around."

"Can't believe there is just that much room." Granny had to admit. She really enjoyed getting out of the house and seeing her Grandchildren have a good time running and playing with the other kids

"Made sure of it. Bought a smaller one for their Mama." Rick looked directly at Granny.

"There's a second vehicle?" Granny's tone couldn't hide her surprise.

"May need a third. A car. I haven't discussed it with their Mama on what she wants to drive daily. In the meantime, what we have, we will make do. All we need for now."

"There's only one out front. There is no second one." Granny wanted to be the first to tell whoever he was at that moment a truth to deal with any way he saw fit. Didn't see no second one."

"It's on order. Mercedes Benz. Fewer seats but it will seat the kids we have just as comfortably."

Granny had so many questions on how, and with what, this man was able to claim two vehicles. She had decided against asking. Too much knowledge was equally dangerous. She wanted to ensure that if she were hauled in for lying detection by the police, she could say she had no information or knowledge, and it would be the truth.

" I see I need to keep you on track AND include you in my head counts. Right now there's a washer and Dryer that has been hauled in here while you've been walking around here dazed and confused. There is no way to explain it to Uncle Charlie for him to understand when it comes to parting with more money for what he considers no real reason. You are needed in the washroom. Now, Abigail and Billie Joe don't have me repeat myself, or it's going to be your bottoms I'll be after with my slipper. Your Daddy said no switch, but he didn't say a damn thing about not using my slipper. Now get up and go get."

Granny waved her hand for them to lift themselves off of his lap.

Rick nodded, lifting them each up and off of his leg.

"Go on." He told them. "When I am done I will have a talk with your Mama about shopping." Sinclaire gave them an incentive to remain cheerful. He ran his hand along the length of their hair.

Rick waited for his visibly disappointed little girls to have the top of their heads lightly tapped by Granny before making their exit towards the kitchen. He stood to address the older woman with a few words in private but he was struck mute within seconds upon spying his son whip around towards them in the living room and then take off in a different direction.

Marty was avoiding head count as he was known to do when there wasn't a Daddy in the home. Now there was a Daddy and it made no difference, the novelty had worn off of having one. Marty had reverted back to Marty who was in everything and wound up anywhere if no one was paying attention.

Granny saw exactly what the Daddy saw around Marty's neck and there wasn't any word for it until Marty crashed into Coveralls who spied the item he had been looking for going on two years. His strap on.

* * *

A/N:

So many stories to tell and proofread. Facepalm. I will make correction after posting this. I have no idea if it makes sense. I wrote this months ago and thanks to Ms. J for bringing it back to my attention. I plan to close out Peace Through Chaos next.


	54. My Strap On For Your Gun

"I started to be really proud of the fact I was gay even though I wasn't"  
 **― Kurt Cobain**

* * *

"Go on now. Your husband ain't here."

There was a small satisfaction that Granny felt about turning away her Big Sister the same as she had done her, even though the reasons were different; Granny needed a place to stay with Uncle Charlie's Girlchild, and Big Sister was in search of her husband.

"He said he was coming over here and he would be right back. Well, he ain't right back."

"That was more than 13 years ago, Big sister."

"Where are you hiding him!?"

"If you don't take your senile ass from over here right about now, I swear I will shoot you. Only then you will know where exactly he is. Now go on from here, Big Sister."

"I told myself I wasn't going to curse you. But I'm sending and calling every curse to fall upon this house right about-"

Pow.

"That there bullet shot down any curse you think to upon this house with my grandbabies inside."

Pow.

That there another bullet was to catch any other that may have crossed your mind to put upon this house with my Grandbabies inside."

Pow.

Uncle Charlie hurriedly stepped outside onto the porch snatching the gun from Granny once the Continental was on the path for those who wanted to live another day.

"Since when we pull guns out on family, Granny?"

Uncle Charlie held the gun in one hand with the barrel pointed downward. He kept a tight grip on Granny's wrist with his other hand.

If it weren't for his boy child interrupting the talk he was having with the delivery men who hauled in the washer and dryer, he would have been too late to stop an old woman with a gun.

He continued, "If you would have killed your Big sister then what? There's blood and a body to worry about if you made a mistake or aimed just right like I taught you to do. We aim to kill. When you know that, you know there's more to killing folks than just shooting because you mad. Family, we talk, or we don't. We don't shoot."

"Aint no family of mine, I tell you." Granny spat, mad as a jackrabbit.

"Same blood still runs in your veins as hers, Can't make no never mind about that." Uncle Charlie scolded.

"I shot in the air. I shot near her. I didn't shoot her. Even though I probably should have to stop her from living and cursing folks with that voodoo she practices. Talking to me like I am just some anybody from off the streets. I am somebody, damn it."

"Not sure what kind of a person you aiming to be at your age but if you were any shooter you will be a somebody who shot her sister plum dead. That's for true."

"For true." Granny conceded when her body exhaled every bit of negative energy with a deep outward sigh. Uncle Charlie was right.

The two people agreed.

"I am just damn tired of being blamed for shit that happened over 40 something years ago, Uncle Charlie. It is not like today where you know better, and you do better. Tell me I am lying about that."

Uncle Charlie understood some of what Granny had gone through growing up like most everyone else that was praising the good Lord's name in a book and not having more than a third-grade education.

Laws were different back then, and for people of color, it took more years than he could reconcile without a piece of paper and pencil given to his boy child to calculate. Life for those who survived and outlived segregation was hard on the uneducated black woman no matter how you mixed the pie. Add the bible to that, and you got your, big mamas, Sister Jones, and every other Granny from the deep south.

"Can't say you are lying, Granny. Can't say you ain't an almost near honest God Fearing woman. Only you have a special relationship with the truth."

"Why can't it rest is what I wants to know. Devil stay busy." Granny bemoaned.

"I suppose there is one person who won't rest until they knows what's under your band-aid, Granny."

"Band-aid. What are you talking about now, Uncle Charlie?"

"See. You still don't realize you are walking around hiding what needs not be. Reason why nothing rest around here. Won't heal without air. Sometimes you need to air it out."

"Now you talking senile."

"Where's that good book of yours?"

"Inside."

"Hold on to that good book of yours with both them hands like you do. Tight to your bosom. I know then if you ain't stirring a pot of beans with your free hand, I can rest to know you ain't got your hands on no gun."

"I do more with my hands than cook around here and hold on to my good book."

"I know you do, Granny. You cook, clean, and take care of those kids that need you. You are a good somebody to them."

"My Grandbabies certainly keep me busy. You hear?"

"Yes, I hear."

"They just about all I got."

"Well, I would hope it's all you need."

"Yes, lord they are all I need to keep me worried to death."

Granny tried to make light of the situation, but it didn't stop the unexpected tears that began to fall quickly from her eyes.

Uncle Charlie released her wrist. He handed back over his gun. Lowering his voice, he ensures that it was only audible to Granny when he spoke.

"Now go on and take this gun and put it away. We had Flowers looking for it, and now her ears may have perked up based on her standing somewhere in the house hearing that gun of mine go off, I say find a good spot where she can't reach it."

Granny nodded and turned to open the screen door to step inside with Uncle Charlie coming in from behind. They both paused for a split second giving the Daddy a long glance before continuing with what was the order of the day.

Granny went trudging up the wooden stairs, and Uncle Charlie went to the laundry room.

* * *

Marty had froze in mid zoom around the room at the sight of who was no longer his Mama. Marty took one step back. Precaution.

"I've been looking all over for this! Thank you, little man! We dudes got to stick together." Onne ruffled Marty's already wild hair.

Onne took what Marty wore as a large necklace and with the strap on firmly in his grip, he took great satisfaction in it's discovery even though it was short-lived.

The ire was seen immediately by Onne when glancing at the familiar nuisance that was still at the house and not long gone with the children as was the deal made in California.

Blue, shiny glint was noticeable like the outside sky when the clouds moved in hopes to allow the sun or lightning streaking through dark clouds after the sound of mighty thunder. Those eyes were a sign, and faster than flame to gas Onne took to running out of the house, breaking the screendoor clear off its already fragile hinges.

Sinclaire was in hot pursuit.

Onne jumped from the top porch step and took off running in the direction of the woods that were surrounding the property. The path he took was to the River where he pretended to drown on more than one occasion in the past.

Sinclaire was going to get that strap on. He was determined now that it had been uncovered. He anticipated there would be a struggle, and he wasn't going to be gentle with Onne, His woman would be the only one able to stop him from a full-on brawl once he caught up with Onne who could fight like any god damn man.

The only thing on Onne's mind was that he had to get his dick to a safe place. There was no way he was going to allow his masculinity to be taken away from him, not without a fight. The white dude was gaining. Assured by his steady footing, Onne made a quick decision to head to Daryl's. The more and more he led the chase Onne only felt he had a good chance to make it after a quick glance behind when he saw the white stalker take a tumble down a steep slope.

That was all he needed to make it where he was determined to get to. Plus Onne knew exactly where Daryl hid his gun. If push came to shove, he would just have to shoot this fast running white fucker.

Sinclaire had misjudged exactly how Onne was going to weave through some dense areas in his hopes to prevent him from reaching the River's edge. The thought of his woman finding herself in the River was too much for him. He wasn't sure which of them knew how to swim, and he would put money on it his woman would sink like a rock.

* * *

Daryl didn' know what to make of the sight at his front door. He slowly got up from his worn plaid sofa, mouth wide open at the mere sight of a dripping wet Onne conspiring with Eugene to take his strap-on in exchange for a gun.

"What in the fuckity whuck are you doing here?"

"I need a gun. He's coming."

"Who is coming?"

No sooner the question left Daryl's lips did he get his answer.

* * *

A/N: I like to thank every single person who continue to follow this story even when I am slow to update it. Corrected an error 04/13/2019 10:33pm


	55. Five Months and Melting Latex

_"Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional."_  
 **― Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running**

* * *

From the latex scent, Eugene could tell the veiny dick had never penetrated any orifice. He was just about to take another whiff when Onne's strap-on was abruptly snatched out of his hands.

"Give me his phone! Give me his phone! I need his phone!" Onne insisted after changing his mind unexpectedly about his need for a gun. The pesky white man was about get away.

Onne would have something that the man who had ran off with his dick would actually want in exchange. A reasonable trade, even though Onne would've much preferred to shoot his ass dead.

Both Daryl and Eugene were perplexed. It wasn't that they didn't know where the fully charged cellphone was, it was just that they were given instructions by the one they were both sure was impersonating Michonne, Flowers, to never provide the phone to Onne. Never. Never. Never. Ever. Ever. Ever.

The reason was because there was a powerful white woman who would have the FBI in the Redneck Hollar so fast to rescue Rick from two hillbillies. And since the two had foolishly given away their first names the threat was real. Daryl and Eugene were aware of the FBI's level of sophistication, and with those types in the Holllar, inevitably bodies would rise from the creekbeds and under an old leaned-in tree where a foot and a possible hoove were recently buried.

Ransom, $100.00.

It was plausible they would have been implicated. A couple of days before...

 _"Hello," Eugene answered._

 _"Who is this?" A woman's voice answered. It was Lori who had no clue to who was on the other end. She did not recognize the 'Hello?'_

 _"You called here. You should tell me who you are." Eugene suggested._

 _"What are you doing with my husband's phone? Where's my husband?"_

 _"He's not on the phone I do know that for sure. Where are you?" Eugene allowed his curiosity to get the best of him yet again._

 _"I am having this call traced. We all know he is somewhere in Georgia. Are you the kidnappers?"_

 _"Kidnappers?" Eugene scratched his temple._

 _Daryl snatched the phone before another word left from Eugene._

 _"Hey lady, My name is Daryl. I own the shop in town. Keep me out of it. Keep Eugene out of it. All that to say is we got nothing but time. Honestly, I may snap before then, but you need to hurry up with the money so your husband can be on the next hound west. I am not footing the bill. Not this time, I'm not. He still owes me for that, but right now, All I NEED is for him to be dropped off at any spot of your choosing, within a ten-mile radius of Herschel-."_

 _Daryl could hear the woman on the phone talking to someone who sounded official-like and went by Lieutenant. "This is Daryl this time. He says he wants money."_

 _"How much?" A male voice asked from a short distance from the receiver._

 _"How much?" Lori spoke into the phone._

 _"The hell if I know how much the Hound will want to get him back to you. Depends on if we're using the closest location as the drop off point. If I were to make a guess, a hundred dollars, give or take."_

 _"What kind of kidnappers are they?"_

No sooner did Eugene's eyes travel to the not so secret location, Onne grabbed the iPhone and took off out the door at full speed. Onne made up ground in the direction Sinclaire had gone; only it was because he had eventually stopped running.

It was too late, seeing the sudden increase in darker grays, bright silvers with flickers of orange, lacking any clouds of ash. The fiery blaze melted the Strap-on. Onne could smell the fumes mixed with the other untended trash burning in the back of a rural resident's yard.

Still panting, Onne began to suffer a very unsettling amount of exhaustion as he placed one hand against the leaned-in-tree that was struck by lightning, or it suffered years of windy abuse, like him, her, and them. With the phone in his hand he began to dial, and in doing so, he realized he didn't know who he was calling, what was the real problem or why he had the phone in the first place. His vision began to blur at the sight of the screensaver that matched what was at his feet when looking down. He stood atop a mound of Yellow Daisies.

Somehow he had wrongly dialed Suzanne who allowed it all to spill over to Michonne without any filter. There was no taking it back-not this time. Michonne fully understood what the daisies meant and what it implied. And because of this, Onne inadvertently experienced his own sudden demise.

* * *

 _Children!_

The closer he got to Uncle Charlie's property, Sheriff Herschel could see children everywhere. He rolled down his window, three turns. He recognized them and knew the difference between Carlton and Ghost who shared a turned down bucket for seating. There was no ignoring the eldest child looked uncannily like the white man who had left his store on foot after purchasing eight bags of chips and soda. Carlton was a younger, tanner version of the mysterious man who had since been spotted driving through town and shopping alone in Herschel's very own grocery store.

"What are you two doing sitting out so close to the road?" Sheriff Herschel asked.

"Waiting on our Daddy to bring our Mama back." Ghost replied.

"Where she went off to, Ghost?" Sheriff Herschel asked.

"My name is Jasmine Amber Jean now." The young girl corrected with pride.

"Sounds like a much better name to me. About time you received a name like the one given. A mighty fine name."

"Thank you, Mr. Herschel." Jasmine beamed.

"So where did your Mama go?"

"Crazy."

"Mama ain't crazy!" Carlton scolded Jasmine.

"Granny says she is. That's how I'm saying it."

"Mama has lots and lots of broken pieces inside. Sometimes they fit like a puzzle. When pieces line up just right, we get our Mama one way, when a few more add on or break back off we get the other. No matter our Mama ain't crazy. She is a puzzle."

"Who told you something like that?" Sheriff Herschel was sure he knew the answer to his very own question.

"Uncle Charlie. He doesn't like no one calling our Mama crazy."

"I only said what Granny says about our Mama. I don't think our Mama is crazy." Jasmine Amber Jean began to cry.

"Why are you crying. I ain't going to tell no one about it, Jasmine Amber Jean." Carlton hugged his sister, but it didn't ease her worry nor her fear of being found out somehow.

"Good to see a brother take care of his sister. I say you a fine young man there, Carlton. You make your Uncle Charlie proud, I imagine."

"I'm going to make my Daddy proud of me too." Carlton declared.

"Where's your Daddy?"

"Trying to catch our Mama."

"Which way they went?"

"That way. Into the woods." Carlton pointed.

"How long they've been off running?"

"Awhile. Uncle Charlie is starting to worry. If he's worried, then we all need to worry."

"Granny says we have to wait until they are too tired to run. When Mama and Daddy are too tired, it may cure them of all their pretending." Jasmine wiped her runny nose on her wrist, and the rest handled with several sniffles.

"I wonder how much running that would take?" Sheriff Herschel wondered aloud.

"I had asked Granny that same question," Carlton replied.

"What was her answer?"

"She said, probably to the moon and beyond." Jasmine gave a full accounting to the exact phrasing.

Sheriff Herschel shook his head for a second. He didn't know what to think about all the going on's and whatnots. What he did know was a report was out about a high profile man who went missing and Michonne hadn't reported to the grocery store in some time. And if Michonne wasn't working chances were pretty good the kids were on oatmeal and all bean diet. He could tell from the two he was conversing with, they were healthy — no apparent signs of neglect. And Granny was alive and well from what he could make out from the distance of her image on the porch front.

"Well, what does school sound like this year for all of you who could go, and should go?"

Carlton replied, "Our Daddy says he is going to convince our Mama. Says he will get stuff sent from the school. All we need is for our Mama read the pamphlets about private schools. We will be safe there because we have a white grandma that volunteers there. She will keep an eye out for anyone dangerous."

"Private school?"

"Daddy just needs time to have a discussion."

Sheriff Herschel couldn't imagine what private school Carlton could be talking about that were willingly accepting financially needy children through their doors. The distance alone to get to such a private school that _would_ allow them was a long ways away. Which didn't make any sense unless they were going to be moving?

This would be considered good news to the major banking institution if the move included Uncle Charlie. If it didn't include the elderly man sitting on the porch, losing those children would kill Uncle Charlie as sure as losing his only living Girl Child.

"What's the name of this Private School you speak of there, Carlton?"

"Alexandria's Pinnacle Pointe."

"That school cost more than 20,000 dollars per year!" The Sheriff exclaimed.

The math was easiest enough for the old Sheriff as it was for Carlton and Jasmine Amber Jean. With five of the eight children school age, the cost was well over a hundred grand a year. How? With what? And who was this Daddy?

"We've done the math. Our Daddy said we deserve the best because we are all Grimes, including Andre."

Herschel was beside himself. He had more questions than he cared to have a child answer. He needed to find an adult — one who knew the truth of the matter and preferably not their Granny who would either go deaf or deny any culpability.

"You kids want a ride up to the house?"

"No. Granny would spank us for sure, and Mama would be A-OKAY with it!"

* * *

Standing on the porch, Granny was drying her hands with a dishtowel with Marty still affixed to her hip; his face buried deep into the crook of her neck. Gladys and Knight were trying to keep the screen door from falling off the hinges while attempting to remain close to Granny's always moving shadow. They were afraid to lose her too.

"Y'all don't keep that screen door closed we will have to fight more than flies while we eat and sleep." She scolded the twins before directing her attention to Uncle Charlie, who called for her to come out on the porch. "What you want, Uncle Charlie? I promise you I ain't climbing no stairs to get no gun. I am not doing it, and I don't want any parts of it. We both can't allow ourselves to be hauled off by the law, while those two somewhere playing chase."

"I ain't asked for you to go get my pistol. Wanted to know if you know what he could be asking them about out there." Uncle Charlie gave a slight tip of his head in the direction to where Carlton and Jasmine were sitting talking to the Sheriff.

"Well if I were to guess, Jasmine is telling him exactly what has been said, especially by me. Your boy child is probably trying to make sense of what you said. I tell you it's the main reason I say all the time kids need to be kids and stay out of grown folk's business. See how Abigail and Billie Jo playing on the other side of the porch? The mind of a child should be just that, I say." Granny quickly noticed the sheriff's vehicle easing up the property with Carlton and Jasmine waving, unmoving from their lookout point.

Granny continued to declare, "I'm going back inside. I ain't got time to be talking to the law about what two crazy people may have most likely done. I've got supper to cook. I have hungry mouths to feed. I am an honest God Fearing woman. Got my bible inside to prove it. Would have it on me if I didn't have this one holding on to me for dear life. Don't forget to tell him I still don't know shit about shit, especially if he goes snooping around. Only you and _him_ invested in what type of flowers that grow or don't grow."

"Just hope my Girl Child is okay. I suppose I would feel it if she wasn't."

"Well, he took time to talk to the kids. If it were urgent, he would have come straight on up to the house and not waste precious time getting serious news to you."

Granny's view on things eased Uncle Charlie's worry a bit. He just needed reassurance.

"Indeed, true."

"True, indeed."

Granny ushered the twins back inside of the house with a gentle flick of her dishtowel. She made sure the screen door was closed but unlatched as she spoke, "Keep this door closed at all times. Now ya'll follow me right where I can see you. And Andre, where the hell are you? I shouldn't have to come looking for you when I need to do a headcount boy. Why do you think things changed because ya'll got a Daddy, is only understood by God and maybe your Uncle Charlie. Now, I need you to go outside, Andre, and tell the rest of em to bring themselves inside to get freshened up — almost time to eat."

Sheriff Herschel wore a slight smile when he watched Andre tear out of the front door and down the steps that had been recently repaired since his last visit some time ago. Herschel nodded when Andre waved and shouted for his sisters and brother to come inside. There wasn't any movement from Carlton and Jasmine, so he had to take off down to the end of the property to get their attention.

The Sheriff tried to get a good eye view of the property and to see for himself if anything was out of the ordinary besides the many hazards when it came to the number of holes that were dug up around the old house. Herschel could hear Granny from where he stood outside of his car. She was loud and generally an unfriendly woman. He was glad to see it would be only him and Uncle Charlie.

"Hot today!"

"Always is this time of the year." Uncle Charlie allowed the chair's rickety rocking motion to continue. He made no motion to cease or stand, and the Sheriff made no move to climb the steps. Both men preferring their conversation take place with one on the porch and the other off.

"How are you surviving this heat, Uncle Charlie?"

"The same as I always have this time of the year, I suppose."

"Same here. I would say it is still something I can't seem to get used too. With places that have AC, it is hard to go back to how it used to be and still be comfortable."

"Never had that type of problem."

"I suppose it is easier for you than me because of that fact, Uncle Charlie." Herschel let out a slight chuckle seeing no amusement on the old black man's face. Herschel couldn't recall the time he first met Uncle Charlie, but he knew the encounter was unremarkable like any other he had when it came to the rest of the colored people that lived off the beaten path teetering on nowhere to wander on purpose or by accident. "I do wonder how much rain it would take to cool things off."

"Depends on the type of storm, I suppose."

"I reckon."

"I reckon so."

"What are all these holes you've gone and dug up around here?"

"Only thing I could think to ease the pain."

"Has it worked?"

"Time will tell."

"Too deep of a hole for daisies, Uncle Charlie."

"Never too deep."

"You say?"

"Truth be told most of the digging was to find that well-pump and the other was to find what had gone missing for some time. I found both. Will have some men here soon to get wires and water running less cold and less hot. Will be able to keep all the children good and clean if we get it done by professionals."

"Cost a pretty penny for all that."

"More than I care to ever part with on purpose if I had it to let go." Uncle Charlie admitted freely.

"Thousands and thousands of dollars." Sheriff Herschel ventured a guess.

"Yes, Indeed!"

Herschel wanted to get back on track to the real reason he was there. He walked over on the side of the porch where Uncle Charlie sat.

"Figured with the sun consistent, things aiming to come to light."

"Gives me peace to know the last seed good and buried in the ground. If the last of the rain comes, the sun surely follows." Uncle Charlie nodded his head as he rocked, strumming his fingers at the end of the weather-beaten armrest.

"Is that so?" Herschel took it as a sign that Daisies could be in numerous spots if he were so inclined to call a search party. "When was the last time you've seen, Michonne, Uncle Charlie?"

"Earlier today."

"The kid's Daddy?"

"Every child should have one. Keeps things balanced."

"Did the kids' Daddy go after Michonne?" Sheriff Herschel clarified his question.

"He doesn't like her taking off no more than I do. The only difference, he is young enough to chase her down and bring her back."

"Heard the young fella that was running for Governor is missing."

"You don't say?" Uncle Charlie followed the Sheriff line of sight where a cluster of daisies bloomed brightly from the short distance. It was where the old rusted water tanks, heaters, and four sets of old washer and Driers failed to blend in with the number of weeds that grew almost abundantly as the flower.

* * *

"Mama! Mama! Mama! Look at me, Mama!" Jasmine Amber Jean tried to remain less afraid than her three sisters who were beginning to cry due to the high amount of anxiety they felt.

By the time Michonne had materialized in the mirror, her body had gone limp. She had fainted.

Their mother had hit the floor.

Jasmine Amber Jean made the hardest decision to leave her Mama behind to go seek her Daddy out when Granny would have never made Abigail and Billie Jo responsible for no one. She couldn't get Gladys to come with her, so she left all three with clear instructions. "STAY. Don't talk to no strangers. No eye contact. Scream if someone tries to snatch you."

She took off as fast as she could in search of her Daddy, who was only a few aisles over in the boy's section. He had Andre, and Marty connected to him by a clothesline from their vehicle, except for Knight who he carried on his hip and Carlton who had just stepped out of the boy's dressing-room happy about his own selection of all new clothes.

It wasn't just the sight of a frantic Jasmine standing before him, ready to give him a full rundown of events as she saw it first hand. It was the piercing screams that had his heart pounding in heavy gut-wrenching thuds. The official snatch alarm was sounded. He scooped up Andre, and Marty as best he could while still holding on to Knight.

"Get in front of me, Carlton," Sinclaire instructed.

Rick allowed Jasmine to take the lead with Carlton following close behind her. The closer they got the louder, the screams. Rick, knew if Sinclaire's arms weren't full with his kids and three of their daughters clinging to his legs he would have shoved the woman aside from blocking him so he could stomp the random customer who was face down on his wife's chest before checking her wrist for a pulse.

When Michonne finally opened her eyes, she realized she was in the hospital and not in some Granny's heaven once her vision adjusted to the sight of the IV in her left arm and a smiling male nurse who was checking the fluid inside of a clear plastic bag. On the right of her bedside, she began to panic at the sight of another white man. It was Rick. A darkening stubble along his jawline instead of his full beard made him almost unrecognizable. For the briefest of seconds, he blended into the sea of faces that haunted her mind.

"It's me, Chonne."

"Chonne?"

"It's me, Rick."

Michonne was relieved as was Rick. He had waited for her return patiently. His random encounters with Flowers didn't deter him when he was pushed forth because Sinclaire wanted to sulk for short stints.

"What happened, Rick?"

"I don't know, Michonne. I feel like I lost a significant amount of time."

"How much time?"

"Four or five months from the looks of things. Maybe, longer."

This news made Michonne tearful and very afraid. Rick glanced over at the confused nurse who was listening to their conversation.

The nurse cleared his throat, "The doctor will be in to go over some information regarding you and your baby-."

"Baby? Which one Rick? Gladys, Knight, Marty, Andre, Jasmine, Billie Jo, Abi-."

"How many kids do you two have?" The nurse couldn't conceal his shock.

"Eight." Rick was finally getting accustomed to saying it out loud. It wasn't long ago he would have needed Sinclaire to admit to such an atrocity and he would with not an ounce of shame. He then spoke to Michonne who had begun to notice more than the IV in her arm. "What I don't need is for you to worry, Michonne. Our kids are all safe."

"Where are they?"

"There are rules about how many visitors at one time. I had to call Granny. Granny came. She's keeping them safe."

"Where?"

"A hotel."

"They are safe?"

"Yes." Rick saw the momentary relief on Michonne's face then the massive confusion when the realization seemed to dawn on her. The thin hospital sheet did nothing to conceal the round mound of her belly.

"Then-what-baby?"

"The one growing inside of you, Michonne."

* * *

A/N: Thank you to the reader (LM) who pointed out Judith. I made the corrections! This is evidence tooooooo many kids. LOL! July 28th correction made. Thanks for reading!

Original A/N: There's so much going on with this story...There's so much to dive into with so many scenes, interactions, and bringing characters to life and to translate it to the reader how chaotic it must feel to suffer from mental illness. I just don't think I am doing justice to Granny, Uncle Charlie, and those eight kids by continuing to write as if this is solely about Richonne. This story, for me, has taken on another life where if I were to continue, I can't imagine this piece of fiction having a place here on Fanfiction much longer.

I do want to reveal when coming back I will lead off with Rick's urgent call to Granny to come and help and then weave Rick's parents who arrive on Uncle Charlie's property while everyone had gone supposedly shopping two towns over at the nearest mall. We will learn more about the clothesline, as mentioned in a previous chapter. I plan to end the next chapter with only dialogue between Onne and Suzanne that occurred during the burning of the strap-on. (Michonne talking to herself)

And this is what I mean about the desire for Richonne interaction...This story becomes more than them but is technically about them. If I am honest, it is probably why I have been avoiding this story (like a few others) because it is technically something that should not be here when it is expected to have more of this or that.

I wish I could write a simple story. (weep)

PS: I do want to thank everyone who desires to continue, and I also want to shout out a particular person on Tumblr who keeps me focused on what she wants to read more of LOL.


	56. The Call To Self

_"You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive."_  
 **― James Baldwin**

* * *

Headache.

 _What a goddamn headache!_

"Can someone come and get this fucker?" Onne demanded.

 _He shot. You chopped. He shot. You chopped. The old man dug and dug and dug..._

The voice pounded inside of her head like a forceful wind. The words formed, descriptive becoming more brass, and brief with no apparent relief until she listened to him who was always her in some form, gender-bending way.

Onne was confused why no one was responding on the other end of the phone. He took it from his ear and put it back. He could hear her breathe. He insisted and twisted free from restraint when he demanded attention to the fading rage.

"Hello? Hello? Hello? Please come and get this fucker. Please! He is a nuisance and an asshole, and you are delusional if for one minute you think he did it for you. He did it all for me. Are you listening? He did it for me. He's been after my ass. Not your ass. My ass. He is an ass man. Trust me. He doesn't want puss either! He wants my ass. My ass was on the line and now...I'm going because you won't kill this Game of Thrones white walker!"

Michonne wondered, holding tight to the tree that no longer shaded her from the sun above, how long had she hid the daisies growing under her feet? Oh my, those hidden treasures she can now see when standing in her closet, blind, lost, confused. Everything was crystal clear, from the stabbed out eyeballs to the carefully placed foreskins of men who were no longer just boys but predators. Fertilizer for her Daisies all over the Redneck Hollar and peppered outside the renamed churchyard.

There was no denying it had been Onne's strength that kept her standing, and the other to remain positive and upbeat. The two were merging like a swirling tornado in hopes to balance out the neverending chaos and confusion that consistently loomed above and below. Michonne's headache pounded until her ears could no longer hear the chant from the dying sounds of wind chimes from the porch three hundred yards from where she stood. She was losing her grip in gaining a full spectrum of her reality. Suddenly there were hands around her while Onne morphed into the most massive branch to fall upon the last mound of daisies.

The would have been Governor was Onne's most exhilarating kill. Onne was the one who had made a deal with the white devil with the glint in his eye. Instead of red Onne only saw vibrant shades of yellow and white, stems of green melting and seeping into the earth. His hand no longer clenching the phone.

Sinclaire caught his woman, while Rick lifted his wife as soon as her hand had left the trunk of the old gnarled tree. If they hadn't, her head would have hit the root protruding from the unleveled ground. Neither of them aware they had interrupted the death of one of the two alters.

Uncle Charlie was relieved when he saw his girl child carried out of the woods by the kid's Daddy. Both were looking no different than when they had bolted out the door a few hours earlier.

Sinclaire climbed the steps, "I brought her back."

"Still spry." Uncle Charlie commented, stepping over to the screen door to hold it open.

"Like a goddamn jackrabbit."

* * *

"Granny?"

"Who's this?"

"Me."

"Me who?" Granny wanted to be sure if it was sparkles or the slow one without much of name for himself other than dazed or slow.

"Rick."

"Am I suppose to know you?"

Rick wasn't getting anywhere with the older woman who was suspicious to a fault. He found it difficult to talk with the taste of metallic becoming stronger. He faded with no hesitation and allowed Sinclaire's impatience to take over when he chose to give the phone to Jasmine.

"Granny-." Jasmine began.

"Oh Lord Jesus, tell me all about it. Tell me, none of you got taken, or hurt, or-." Granny knew she messed up with Uncle Charlie at the kitchen table with his newspaper and no one to read it to him. He was all ears.

"Daddy needs you to find his set of keys. When you do, he needs you to come to the Sheraton. He can't do all this by himself, and if he had it his way, it would have been different but not by much now that the number is eight and soon nine or ten. When there are names and faces, he doesn't think he would ever choose less knowing what he knows now."

"Jesus! If anyone ever needs a word for word, they going to use you, Jasmine Amber Jean. It's going to be you to keep those two either free or locked away for a long, long time, I say." Granny clutched her bible to her breast.

"Now, why you go and say that to my good girl child? True is true." Uncle Charlie stood next to Granny in the kitchen.

"Truth is what you are going to get from this girl child that is for true. Good and true go hand and hand."

"Daddy says, to take county road 209-"

"Directions! Child, wait for me to get some paper and a pencil."

"What the devil going on Granny?" Uncle Charlie was becoming insistent when she was just learning of the events for herself.

Granny put the phone on speaker so Uncle Charlie could stay quiet while she got her instructions to get the kids from wherever they were before they were taken once and for all. She gave Uncle Charlie a long enough look to infer that if he had been on her side when the suggestion was made to allow them to take all of the kids in the first place, both their blood pressure wouldn't be so high.

"Your Uncle Charlie's Girl child ain't going to be happy until he's 6 feet under from worrying himself. Now tell us what transpired. Tell it like you do."

Jasmine rehashed the events that happened earlier in their long day. "I did as you said, Granny. I made a decision. I told Abigail and Billie jo and Gladys what to do. I told them to stay put while I went to find our Daddy..."

Granny instantly went weak. She was sure her heart was going to give out the moment she felt her knees almost give in. She named two children right off the bat that should never be responsible for little Gladys at any point, ever. Abigail and Billie Joe only worried about the other as Gladys could never go too far without Knight in her sight.

Uncle Charlie hurried with the nearest chair for her to sit while they listened to their grandchild relay events they could only imagine.

"Is my Girl Child alright is what I want to know?" Uncle Charlie cut to the chase once Jasmine informed they were all accounted for and were safe inside of a hotel.

"Mama is sleeping in the hospital. We didn't get to see her because there is too many of us. Daddy plans to sue the hospital for stressing him and prejudice against people with too many kids."

Granny found the keys in the precise location she was instructed to find them. She didn't have the luxury too ooh or aah over the Mercedes bus she was privy to drive two towns over to a hotel called the Sheraton she hurried and placed her bible on the passenger seat, and her destination marked down as an emergency. Granny was needed, and she was on her way to save the day.

Along the way to the hotel, Granny arrived without any issues. The first person she saw was her grandkids Daddy being handed something in an envelope and Jasmine Amber Jean on her tippy toes trying to see and hear what she could about any and every interaction. Carlton's back was to her as he was tending to something around the waist of Andre and Marty. Abigail and Billie Jo was in their own little world, touching on everything within their reach and calling it beautiful.

Granny's presence affected the look in his eyes when she opened the double glass doors. Gone was the look or self-assuredness she thought she spied when he was engaged in conversation with the hotel clerk.

"Granny." He said. What he had uttered sounded the alarm to the children.

"Granny! Granny!" Every single child chimed.

Gladys patted her Daddy's shoulder to let her down while Knight bounced in his arms, wanting to remain attached to his Daddy because he enjoyed seeing the world up high. Marty and Andre suddenly realized they couldn't run to greet Granny when they tried to dart. The wrist that controlled them barely budged.

Yes, self-assured replaced by an anxious Daddy.

"Lord have mercy be enough money left over after the cost of this!" Granny exclaimed.

Granny put her concerns out in the atmosphere due to now seeing the hotel matched the outside. She worried about the looming cost of repairs needed at the house, and she wasn't sure where the money was coming from to pay if their Daddy was spending precious dollars on what look to be more than twenty dollars a night.

Granny's head-count started with every embrace she received. The joy of embracing, and being welcomed was equally important as ensuring there were eight children accounted for, at all times. She tapped four heads. She stepped closer to Marty and Andre and touched two more. Closer still her touch lingered slightly longer on the uncombed heads of Gladys and her brother Knight. Both knew instinctively what that meant, and they both rested their heads on their Daddy's shoulder. Gladys changed her mind; she did not want to get down.

"If he knew how to comb your head, it would be done, and you would have no need not to want to come to your Granny," Granny informed the youngest of the children, Marty included. Mattered none that he clung behind his Daddy's leg.

This was the first time Granny ever had all of her grandchildren gone all at once. It was a feeling she likened to having no reason to live when you have no one to take care of and keep safe.

"Did you bring Uncle Charlie, Granny?" Carlton asked.

"No, I did not bring your Uncle Charlie, but he sure would have liked to have seen every one of you with his own two eyes. He worried, but not worried enough when he thinks somebody is going to sneak up and take his property if he goes two towns over."

"Told you he wasn't coming." Jasmine nudged Carlton who only nodded she was right.

Granny continued, "Plus, that wasn't my instructions, and if it was, Uncle Charlie wasn't coming this far out when he is sure that I am sure his girl child is playing pretend so not to deal with the real world."

"Mama is having a baby!" Abigail and Billie Jo informed Granny for what Granny considered the 100th time since Michonne belly began forming faster than the speed of light.

"Too early for that, she still has some months to go. Which is good news for her to get her mind ready for another mouth to feed and for me to keep safe."

"Our Daddy just paid for one more room. Says we can't all be crammed like Vienna Sausages because two still felt the same as one."

"A man who doesn't eat oatmeal or beans can't know anything about some canned sausages, I'll tell you that. That I'm sure of. Yes, indeed."

"We have working TVs!" Billie jo jumped up and down with her sister Abigail.

"Wait until you see inside, Granny!" Abigail added.

Granny had expected one room. Two was wishful thinking. Never in her life had she known a grown adult who concerned themselves with making sure their children were comfortable. It was the reason why she had anticipated the children sleeping just about everywhere and anywhere if they were ever tired enough to sleep. This mindset was different.

Granny put her attention entirely on the man before her. The Daddy. The facial hair all gone. He didn't have a spark or glint in his eyes. He wasn't dazed. Anxious, yes. For a second he almost seemed like any other white man in the world if he hadn't had Marty and Andre connected to his wrist by a rope around their waist while he carried a clinging Gladys and Knight. The white stained clothing line was something she wanted to address, but she knew there's always a better time or place to discuss private things, especially after having to cut her eye at the hotel clerk to mind her business and not their business.

"Let me carry your suitcase, Granny." Rick offered before they were to go over to the elevator.

"That's alright! You've got your hands full. The least I can do is carry my own bag." Granny suggested.

"No. The least I can do is carry your bag. If you want to take Glady's..."

Gladys was reluctant, and Granny didn't mind because her head was the first she was going to comb. Her suitcase completed the exchange.

Rick instructed his children to follow him back to the room. He led, and Granny carried the tail end to ensure all of her grandkids were accounted for. Once inside the children watched with delight the changing look on their Granny's face. It took her a minute to take it all in, the size, the modern style, color scheme, cleanliness, and a working television that was already on Blues Clues. Glady's was eager to get down.

"What do you think, Granny?" The question was presented to her by every child that cared. Marty and Andre were finally set free, and Knight placed on his own two feet so he could go in the same direction as Gladys to watch what they have never been able to see ever before. A blue cartoon dog interacting with a real man on a working television.

"Give me a minute to think about my thoughts, and I'll tell you all about it, how about that?" Granny offered with a smile.

Carlton, Abigail, and Billie Jo nodded.

"We have snacks, Granny! All kinds! Come see!" Jasmine led her Granny a few steps to the right.

"I hope you've had more than snacks?" Granny spied most any kids cravings on a table with not enough chairs for all of them to sit.

Jasmine's announcement had refreshed Marty's memory, and he made sure to grab a bag of chips and a juice box. Granny wanted to take it away due to the hour but thought better of it. She would just have to be mindful to escort him to the bathroom until he pisses it all out.

"There's room service.," Rick informed, "Kids have eaten what they wanted from the menu on the table. If you are hungry, you can do the same, Granny. Order what you want. The restaurant is open 24 hours here. You place an order, and they will bring it up to the room to you. Everything is charged to the room, including the tip."

"Me, Carlton and Andre had a Steak for the first time ever. It was so so good, Granny!"

"Steak?" Granny was surprised by what Jasmine was telling her.

"Me, and Abigail, and Knight had tacos, Granny, and it was the bestest!" Billie jo continued to jump up and down until Granny raised her hand, a sign to settle down.

"I didn't hear anything about baby girl. Did Gladys eat?"

"Yes. Gladys had some of Daddy's steak, and a baked potato."

"Don't take much to fill her up. How about Marty? What did Marty have?"

The room went quiet except for the sound from Blue's Clues that had the younger children's full attention.

"I had asked Marty. He insisted he didn't want to eat. I order a large meal for myself because I knew I would be sharing to get him to at least taste. Glady's was sleeping. She woke up when the food arrived. Marty said no to everything after sniffing it except for the salad. Marty had a salad." Rick explained.

"Salad?"

"I'm beginning to think he really doesn't like meat, Granny. He seemed to enjoy the salad, more so without any dressing. I'm going to have to take him to a pediatrician and maybe a nutritionist. I want to ensure the best way to support his diet, where he is getting everything he needs to stay healthy without forcing him to consume what he does not want."

Everything the Daddy said was foreign to Granny but also enlightening at the same time. She couldn't wait to tell Uncle Charlie all about Marty's control over the Daddy.

"Well, what I say is, if little Marty gets good and hungry enough, he will eat. Never a choice in the matter when you are starving."

Rick swallowed the metallic taste that developed. It was the words that Sinclaire would have said in response to starving any one of his children. Rick kept Sinclaire muffled.

"I don't want it to ever get to that point, Granny. I want my children with a choice, within reason and when medically necessary."

"Who's doing all this reasoning?" Granny wanted to know after taking another glance at the twinkies, chips, powder donuts, candy bars, cookies lined up the table while juice and milk boxes chilled in an ice bucket.

"I will make sure you are aware of what is needed since it is I that will be the provider."

There was a momentary silence between the Daddy and Granny. What needed to be said had to have the blessing from Uncle Charlie if she were to say what she wanted. One thing she knew was to allow a provider room to do what he was or is supposed to do. Provide.

"Now, where can I get the kids washed and ready for bed?"

Granny changed the subject and at the dismay of the children who wanted to get away with uncleanliness if they had the chance.

She marveled at the fact a wall moved and opened to another room, and through that room, another wall was moved to change the space into something more comfortable.

"Now this is something Uncle Charlie would have to have seen with his own two eyes, I say."

There was a chuckle or an echo of one in his mind. "I am glad you made it safe, Granny. Thank you for coming to help. I can count on you, and it means everything to me that I can."

"Well, you've got my grandbabies." Granny's own response surprised her. It had been years since she was ever self-conscious.

Granny knew she should have said something different than what she did say. No one at any given time, other than Uncle Charlie had ever thanked her. A sincere thank you that made her almost want to cry. Maybe it was the sense of being needed that scratched at her heart, causing sharp fragments to pierce her soul.

"We are on the top floor. Once you get settled in, I would like to see about their mama. I need to make sure she knows I am still here. I haven't left. I will not leave her, nor am I leaving you and Uncle Charlie to do what I should have been doing."

"What is that?"

"Staying present."

"Back then?"

"Then and Now."

* * *

Rick sat at Michonne's bedside.

"Are you going to look at me?" He had asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"I thought you didn't want me because I was fat."

Rick couldn't think of a response that would make any sense other than he wish she was fat. Fat, overweight, he was sure he could muster up a hard-on for Michonne, but a pregnant woman, he was just unable to find her desirable in a sexual way.

"I stopped eating and drinking to the point I passed out."

"You need to eat Michonne. You need to keep enough fluids in your system."

"You don't want me because I'm pregnant." Michonne no longer fought back her tears. She allowed herself to cry with her face in the opposite direction of his. Rick couldn't see how his rejection made her feel but he felt it all the same.

Rick sighed. He wasn't going to lie. If he lied and found himself in a position to perform in a sexual manner, he would be right back at square one. How could he tell her he loved her but didn't want to ever have sex with her while pregnant?

"I love you, Michonne. That's all I know. I love you. I'm not leaving you. I'm aware it may have been the reason the other times. I sense it has been the case. We never really talked about it. I've never talked to anyone about it. I know it happens around this time. When it is obvious to me before it is for you." He was referencing the six times he had dropped out of her life, led by an alter or two when vanishing, always at the insistence of Onne holding a gun.

"Is it because it doesn't feel good anymore?"

Michonne wanted to understand. Somewhere between the first time in his bedroom when she was seventeen, the way he intervened when Mike came at her at the rest stop a few years later, or how he held her when she realized her hands were stained by the blood of each and every one of her kill. She had fallen in love with him the moment he said he would help her get them. Get them all they eventually did evidence piled neatly inside of a large wooden box hidden in the wall of her closet.

Michonne's question stirred him. _Feel good,_ tingled a bit, the way she said it. He was ashamed. There was never a time that he could recall that sex between them wasn't good. He only associated the act of lovemaking when he was having sex with Michonne. While she was pregnant was it something he should associate with feel good? There was a child inside of her and there was no reason in his mind to introduce the unborn to sex acts in such close proximity. The thought turned him off. There was no way he was going to maintain an erection.

"Tell me so I can understand. I want to understand before I consider divorce. It's what I'm thinking."

"Wait, what?"

"You have to be cheating."

"When?" It was a valid question for he was always with Michonne, around Michonne, waiting for Michonne while trying to juggle his sanity, and the constant take over by Sinclaire.

"Don't make me think about it."

"Well, I need you to think about what you are accusing me of, Michonne."

"It is not my job to prove when you would have had the time, Rick. Divorce is what I'm considering and I'm giving you full custody."

"Full custody? I can't handle half custody, Michonne. I nearly lost my mind alone with them until Granny came to help."

"They are your children. Get used to it. I had plenty of time. Your turn."

Rick had a distinct feeling of deja vu. He did something he had never done before during this time. He stayed the course. "I don't want a divorce, Michonne. I don't want full custody. Shared. Us together. You and me. Together."

Michonne had remnants of what Onne had left behind. She had doubts lingering. In her mind, he was either cheating, gay, or planning to leave her because he was cheating.

"I would think you being pregnant again would be more important than if I'm cheating on you."

"I'm not pregnant. Not anymore. I told the doctor to take it out. Told him if he didn't, I would." Michonne tossed the blanket aside to show Rick her belly.

Rick saw what Michonne couldn't see-she was still very pregnant an Onne was more than likely going to have his wife placed on the mental ward. Sinclaire knew exactly how to combat Onne whose power diminished but not his slight influence stirred by his woman and her possessive ways.

"If sex during this time is important, well, I have to figure out how to make it happen."

"Where are you going, Rick?"

"To find a doctor,"

"For what?"

Sinclaire didn't answer. He wasn't going to tell her. He only revealed it to Rick who was stunned by the answer. Viagra.

* * *

"Don't take another step." Uncle Charlie spoke loud and clear.

Senior and his wife Ella froze at the sight of the shotgun aimed in their direction. The only move Senior made was to introduce himself while standing outside of his Black Bentley with his wife on the other side.

"Sir, my name is Senior Grimes, and this is my wife, Ella Grimes."

"Good to know what to put on your tombstones amongst the daisies."

"Not exactly what I wanted on my headstone." Senior had to fight a chuckle.

"Dead people don't have a choice. Only can pray the people still living care enough. Can't say I care, that's for true."

"Understood. Well, we were given information we could find our son, Richard Sinclaire Grimes, possibly living here."

"Richard Sinclaire Grimes, you say?"

Uncle Charlie had never heard the name put together like it had been told to him just then. A man with a middle name strung together like so was always a person of importance. At least to Uncle Charlie, it signified just that from his years in the cotton field and his first chance to take a short trip into town to sell hens while barely off his own Mama's tit.

"It's been months since I've last spoken to him." Ms. Ella added, "We wanted to make sure he was okay."

"A grown man, I say."

Senior took over again. He was unsure of the older black man's meaning, "We have been worried about his welfare. His childhood friend told us where to come. Can't say that Sheriff was much help."

"Sheriff, you say?"

"It is the reason why we're here this morning. We have pictures of what looks to be our grandchildren. We could be just hopeful about it. If it is true what we think we know, we would also like to have a chance to meet them. The last time we saw Michonne, was before any of them were born. Kills us to know what we've been missing out on all this time. From what we know, there's eight. Is that right?"

Uncle Charlie lowered his aim. Not because they weren't from the bank, or knew the man who loved his Girl Child or that they had the number of children exactly right. It was because they met his Girl Child and knew her name, Michonne.

* * *

A/N:

I want to thank everyone who still enjoys reading this story. I want you to understand your words have inspired me to continue on this platform. Thank you. I will try to update this more, but unfortunately, the chapters will ride like a wave, shorter before longer. Also, this story is so fascinating to me still. So many routes to take with no ending in sight. I will make corrections to errors and note that I have to the best of my ability. Also, the very persistent person on Tumblr began reading all my old stuff and it caused me to want to read my old stuff too. Sorry for the delay...blame it on my Tumblr person. lol


End file.
